


Catharsis

by Blurrygorl (blurrygorl), ithicablau (blurrygorl)



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blowjobs, Brendon Urie - Freeform, Choking, Depression, Kidnapping, Love Triangle, M/M, Masochism, Non-Graphic Violence, Ransom, Rough Sex, Sadism, Stockholm Syndrome, brendon is really mean, josh dun - Freeform, josh is also mean but it’s different ok, oops i yeeted my humanity, pov switching, slowish burn, tyler joseph - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 09:53:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurrygorl/pseuds/Blurrygorl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurrygorl/pseuds/ithicablau
Summary: Tyler Joseph, the son of a rich family, is kidnapped and held for ransom. There may be more to the story however.





	1. polarize.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

//Joshua//

 

I’ve been watching him through the two way mirror off and on for a few hours now. I might have hit him a little too hard. He’s definitely not dead, and hopefully not concussed. His manacles are tight around his wrists and bolted into the concrete wall his back is leaned against. He’s small. Very small for an eighteen year old.  
I perk up a bit when I see him start to stir. The chains drag and alert him that he’s not in bed at home, or on the couch at friends house. He’s chained to a wall in cold dark basement. His eyes flit open and the realization on his face is quite the sight. He catches himself in the mirror ten feet in front of him and it almost feels like he’s looking directly at me.  
He stiffens and pulls at the restraints, startling himself with clanging sound they make. His gaze darts around, no doubt worried he’s alerted his captor. 

Too late. 

His chest starts heaving with panic. He tries to stand, slowly but the chains aren’t long enough for much more than high crouch. I see his mouth moving frantically and I flip the audio surveillance.

“Fuck...fuckfuckfuck,” is all he’s managing. And then after a few moments,  
“Hello?” He calls out.  
Braver than I expected, he doesn’t even seem to be crying yet. I guess I should introduce myself.  
I walk through the door to my left and into my basement with a bit of smirk I’m not able to hide. He jumps at the sound of the door and backs himself as close as he can to the door. His mouth hangs open like he wants to speak but can’t take in any air.  
He looks like an animal. A rabbit maybe. Hunters used to make those snares for rabbits and they’d dance around and struggle so much they’d often snap their own necks. I wonder if he’d dance for me.  
I squat down on my heels no more than a foot in front of him, and decide to decline to speak first. I’d like to know what he’s made of.  
“I wouldn’t hurt me if I were you,” he whispers.  
I pull a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket and place one between my lips, lighting it and taking the first drag all while maintaining eye contact with my little rabbit.  
“Why?” I exhale.  
“My parents have a lot of money.”  
I snorted. He’s not made of much I guess.  
“I know, that’s why you’re here obviously. I know just about everything there is to know about you. Tyler Robert Joseph, 18, rich parents, spoiled fucking brat. That’s just about everything, yeah?”  
He winces behind the cloud of smoke I’ve blown in his direction.  
“Just call them! Get your money and let me go the fuck home. It’s not my fault you’re fucking poor.”  
I raise my eyebrows. Have I been too kind? Does he think because I haven’t taken a red hot melon baller to his eyes yet that this is all a big act?  
I drag my cigarette against the concrete floor and blow the tiny embers near his legs, chuckling when he scrambles away.  
“Brat. Just like I said. You’re used to mommy and daddy throwing money at all your problems aren’t you? They’re probably professional money throwers,” I laugh. “You’ve never been disciplined a day in your fucking life. A steady stream of bills keeps you compliant enough, or am I wrong? It seems you’ve been causing mom and dad quite a few problems, or so I’ve heard. Don’t mistake me for some dumb criminal. I know exactly who you are. Money will get you out of here but it will not dictate how you’re going to be treated during your stay.”  
“Whatever,” he spits back.  
It’s so cliche it’s comical.  
“Have you ever been hit in the fucking mouth, Tyler? Ever been popped one good time for that attitude?”  
He stares back at me bewildered.  
“I’m serious. Has anyone ever even halfway opposed you over anything? Have you ever,” I laugh a bit, “been hit in the fucking mouth?”  
His eyes move around my face a few times.  
“No,” he finally responds.  
“Well, allow me the pleasure of being the first.”  
He scrambles more as I stand up.  
“Excuse me?” He’s incredulous but he won’t be for long.  
Next to him, out of his own reach, is a crank that adjusts the tautness of the chains connected to his shackles. I crank it, and watch the panic rise up in his face again as his wrists are pulled against his will until their almost flush with wall.  
He looks up at me wildly.  
I run my hand through his fluffy brown hair, before closing my fist around as much of it as I can get a hold of.  
“Stop it. I’m sorry okay? I’m just scared, I didn’t mean-“  
I cock my arm back and slap him. He whimpers and looks back up at me, his brown eyes are impossibly big.  
“There it is...” I sing, shaking his head from side to side, “That’s the look you should have on your face around me.”  
His mouth opens and I hit him again much harder, it stings my palm a little. Tears well up in his eyes. He pulls his knees up and tries to kick at me, I slap him a third time, use my free arm to pin his right leg down, and straddle his left leg. I crane his head back forcing him to face me. He’s so close I can feel his heavy panicked breaths puff on my cheeks.  
“I need you to understand that you are nothing here. You’re not rich or high class or privileged. You’re a scared little boy chained to a wall and that’s it. Do you understand me?”  
“Yes,” he breathes.  
“I don’t think you do. You exist here by the grace of me. I decide whether or not you eat. I decide whether or not you sit here and piss yourself. Do you know how long a human being can survive without food or water? I do, so if you don’t figure out how to fucking act, we can test those limits together. Or maybe I can blare an alarm in here and I won’t even let you sleep.”  
I let go of his hair long enough to caress his cheek, sickly sweet.  
“What do you think you’d do for a sip of water after a few days?”  
His lips are quivering and the tears in his eyes have long since streamed down his face. I have his full attention now. He hasn’t even blinked for quite some time.  
“All I have to do is return you alive. But if you want to keep being difficult we can do this the hard way. Or maybe you can be a perfect fucking angel and I’ll still ruin you and any chance you have at a normal life after you leave this place and you’ll see me every time you close your eyes because you aren’t in control here. Who is?”  
He gulps down a sob, “You. You are.”  
“There you go,”I stand up, “and for your information, I’ve already been in correspondence with your folks, and they’re trying to negotiate numbers with me. Turns out I over-estimated the price of their son’s life.”  
He stares at the ground. Silent. Defeated, for now at least, as he ignores my cutting tone. I turn to leave. Before I shut the door I call back to him.  
“Maybe a few fingers in their mailbox will get them a little more clear-headed.” 

 

\\\Tyler\\\

 

Yesterday, hours ago? I don’t know how long it’s been. I was alone in my house. Now I’m alone here. Only I’m really alone. Like maddening silence alone. I don’t know what time it is, I don’t know what day it is. He must have hit me from behind because I never even saw him, but I remember the awful sound of that crack on the back of my head and then I woke up here. He’s been gone for a while. I don’t want him to come back but God I’m going to go crazy in here. He didn’t start any alarm like he said he might but there’s no way I’d be able to sleep regardless. My body is tired but there’s just no way. I wish he’d pulled the chains back down, my arms are burning like hell.  
I’ve seen this on tv shows and movies but it’s so much worse. How long am I going to sit here. Why won’t my parents just give him what he wants? I think about the way I’ve treated them and wonder if they even want me back. Is anyone looking for me?  
Who the fuck does he think he is treating me like this? They’ll get him somehow. I’ll visit him in prison every fucking week just to laugh in his stupid face. I’ve committed that face to memory, and the ridiculous red hair, and the tattoo on his arm. He’s fucked up, he really has.  
My cheek aches, I can taste blood where the inside of mouth got cut on one of my teeth. I let my head drop down. I can’t defend myself I know I can’t. Even if he came down here and set me free I’d fucking cower before fighting. I hate how weak I am. I can’t stay down here. My thoughts are getting darker. My body is exhausted but my mind is racing. I jump at the sound of the door being opened. The first thing I see is a flash of red hair. He’s holding two plates and two bottles of water under each arm. I watch him carefully as he approaches and sets the plates and bottles in front of me. On each plate is a sandwich and a pile of potato chips. I glance back at him and I could sing when I see him start cranking the chains back down. When they settle I immediately wipe the crusty dried tears from eyes. When I’m done I see him sat cross legged on floor in front of me, taking a bite out of his sandwich. He’s going to eat with me?  
“Hope you don’t mind I left the crust on,” he says with his mouth full.  
Against my better judgement I’m about to throw out some rude remark, but when I look at him he’s smiling good naturedly.  
I decide to say nothing. I should probably never speak here again. I should just sit here and wait and keep him as content as possible.  
I reach out and take the top piece of bread off, crumble some chips on top of the ham, and then replace the bread. I pick it up to take a bite but I see him staring at me, with a smile.  
“What?” I say flatly, already breaking my vow of silence.  
“Nothing,” he shrugs, taking another bite, “That was cute.” He finishes.  
I’m taken aback but I attempt not to show it.  
The rest of our meal is spent without conversation.  
He seems almost like a different person. I guess I did lash out at him earlier but what did he expect? Before he gets up to leave he nudges the water bottle closer to me and picks up my empty plate. 

He stands up and looks down at me and I hate the way it feels.  
“I’m bringing you something tomorrow afternoon. I meant to have it already but there was a little hiccup. Get some sleep.” I stare at the ground until I hear the door shut and then suddenly the lights go out.

Fuck.


	2. anathema.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

//Joshua//  
I made sure to grab his phone before I left Tyler’s house after loading his unconscious body into the back of my car. It’s nice to have some backstory and a sense of what I’m working with. All you need nowadays is someone’s cellphone and you can basically uncover everything about a person. I was surprised to find it unlocked. I was under the impression that kids kept their shit locked down. Like their lives are some big elaborate secret that must be kept hidden. But as I scroll through it now it appears he has nothing to hide anyway. He has no social media accounts to speak of, very few contacts, and even fewer conversations in his text messages. To say he was a loner seems understated. I do however find one bit of information that’s at least a little interesting.  
It’s about 8 in the morning and I decide to check on him, see if he’s slept any.  
I flick the main lighting on before opening the door, and I find him still asleep cradling himself against the wall. I nudge him with my foot and he inhales sharply as his sleepy eyes slit open. Once he registers that it’s me he’s looking at, his eyes flutter and he rattles in his chains sitting up straight and trying to get his bearings.  
“Sleep okay?” I ask. He ignores me and watches warily as squat down in front of him. He eyes his own phone in my hand and then glares at me, still refusing to speak.  
I smirk and look down to scroll through the device.  
“You like to write? Some of this stuff is pretty good,” I shrug.  
“I really like this one,” I hold it in front of his face to show him the note on his phone.  
“‘Anathema’ that’s a ten dollar word,” I muse scanning over the lines again. “What are these letters on top?”  
His face scrunches up like it’s a stupid question.  
“Piano chords,” his voice is gravelly like he’s still not fully awake, he clears his throat, “It’s a song.”  
“You perform?”  
He shakes his head.  
“Why not?”  
He stares at me a moment and then looks down.  
“Sing it for me,” I press.  
His eyes snap back up.  
“Come on, I can’t read music, let me hear it,” I smile watching his cheeks flush.  
“No,” it’s such a small sound, more like a plea than anything.  
“What, are you no good? Art’s meant to be enjoyed and all that, you know. I won’t laugh, I promise. Your lyrics are solid.”  
He scans my face searching for the joke and he doesn’t seem to find it.  
“You can’t look at me,” he says quietly.  
I’m amazed honestly. I never really expected him to do it.  
“Okay,” I say, and I look down at the phone.  
I hear him inhale deeply, almost raggedly. 

“You will never know what's behind my skull  
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye  
You will never know what's under my hair  
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye  
You will never know what's under my skin  
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye  
You will never know what is in my veins  
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye?”

At this point I can’t help but glance up at him, his eyes are closed and he’s picking absentmindedly at his own cuticles. 

I’m awestruck.

“Won't you go to someone else's dreams?Won't you go to someone else's head?Haven't you taken enough from me?Won't you torture someone else's sleep?

And you will never know what I'm thinking of  
So won't you say good night, so I can say goodbye  
And you will never understand what I believe  
So won't you say good night  
So I can say goodbye?”

He keeps his eyes shut even after he’s finished, and he looks like he’s trying not to cry. From embarrassment or the emotion from the song, I can’t quite tell. His cheeks are red hot. Finally, his eyes open but he just stares through my feet.  
“I liked it. A lot,” I offer, “Who’d you write it for?”  
“Myself,” he answers.  
“I meant who’s it about,”  
“Nobody,” he sounds pissed but I chalk it up to his boundaries being crossed and I let it slide.  
“Something like that doesn’t come from nothing,” I say lighting up a cigarette, “Want one?” I ask through my teeth, holding the open pack towards him.  
“No,”  
“Good boy,” I laugh, “And I was serious. You should share this with people.”  
“Why are you being nice to me?” He asks almost before I finish speaking.  
I take a drag, “You’re giving me no reason not to be. Stopped being a little asshole at least.” I shrug.  
He looks up at me and his eyes seem softer. He swallows thickly before reaching out for the half-drunk bottle of water at his side.  
“Do you want one that’s still cold?”  
He shakes his head, looking down trying to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. I could press. I choose not to.  
He opens up without me having to.  
“My parents don’t want me back,” he says softly, “I’ve never done anything but make life harder for them. They’re probably not going to give you anything. I’m sure they’re glad you did this.” He pauses. I wait, letting him put his thoughts together.  
He looks straight into my eyes with his brows furrowed.  
“How are you going to do it?” He asks shakily.  
“I’m not sure what you mean.”  
“How are you...going to kill me if they don’t...you know. I just- I don’t want it to hurt.” All the color has drained from his face.  
It’s hard, but I keep my expression steady.  
“Haven’t thought about it. It’s not going to come to that.”  
I feel a sense of urgency, beckoning me to comfort him more, but I steel myself.  
“Quit thinking about it,” it sounds harsh, but only because it needs to be. I’m a lot softer than he thinks, and it won’t serve me well to let him on to that fact. It’s been less than 24 hours and he’s already accepted a pre-ordained fate of death.  
“I just want to tell them I’m sorry.” He says quietly.  
I have to leave before I do something I shouldn’t.  
“I’ve got to go, Tyler. I’ll be back later.”  
He eyes me wildly.  
“Wait! Please, fuck, don’t leave. I’ve got-I’ve got more songs, if you want I could-“ He babbles a bit and then just begs me with his eyes.  
“Please stay,” he whines, with more tears all but erupting from his huge eyes.  
“Please.” 

Fuck me. Why’s he so attached? Why do I like it? Why am I leaning forward onto my knees, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into my chest?He feels so small in my arms, I could fucking break him.  
He goes limp against me, I’m not in comfortable position at all, but I can’t seem to move, listening to his breaths become less and less erratic. He stops shaking. I don’t know how long we stay like this because I’m panicking, finding myself sliding my fingers gently through his hair.  
“What’s your name,” he asks.  
“Joshua,” I say, mentally kicking myself.  
I pull away as he half heartedly clings to me.  
“I really do need to go. I’ve got some shit to pick up. I’ll be back. I told you last night I had something to bring you remember?”  
He nods.  
“It’s important that I get it, alright?”  
He nods again.  
I pull away from him completely, dusting my knees off as I stand. I find it impossible to look at him, but I feel his eyes on me.  
“I’ll be back, I’ve got to get your stuff and I’ll be back with food and I’ll get you a shower, okay?” I don’t wait for a response before turning and leaving.  
I shut the door behind me and lean against it before letting every bit of air out my lungs. My cig is still between fingers completely out. I toss it instead of relighting it.  
“What a fucking display that was,”  
I jump at the voice.  
“What are you doing here, Brendon?” I snap.  
“Trying my hand at voyeurism,” he laughs, “at least, that was what I was hoping for,” he picks my cigarette up and relights it in his own mouth, “but you pussied out.”  
I don’t dignify him with a response.  
Brendon is not my friend. He’s my associate, and the worst one possible at that. He’s a bad guy, not the kind of person you want around at the best of times but definitely not someone you want to be at odds with either. 

I guess I should let you in on a secret. 

Tyler isn’t in any danger. Not really anyway. I’m getting money from his parents, but not the way you’d expect. Obviously this is morally grey at best, and legally...illegal, but Tyler’s parents are paying me to teach their son a lesson. It’s not honest work, but it pays about as well as you could imagine.  
Political figures. Celebrities. Run of the mill rich folks like the Jospeh’s. I’ve worked with them all. Tyler’s disappearance will get no media attention, it will not be reported to law enforcement, and no one else will ever know about it. He will be returned mostly unharmed, and with a shiny new outlook on life. If all goes well he’ll make a 180 on his behavior and attitude.  
And in return I’ll get fat stack of dirty cash.  
Everything I do is an act. For the most part. It’s my job. I’ve got to scare them, rough them up a bit, it’s not hard.  
Brendon does the same thing I do. We work out of this warehouse and I do my best to keep out of his way. Not that such a thing could ever exist, but Brendon’s online Kidnapper Yelp reviews would be scathing. He’s been forced to pay out of pocket for more than a few ‘unapproved injuries.’ Since there’s no way to regulate a business like this, he’s safe from any non-monetary consequences. What could anyone do? Call the cops on a kidnapper they hired? Not likely.  
I got into this line of work for money. He does it for pleasure. He’s untouchable and even if he weren’t, I wouldn’t be the one to try anything with him.  
He puts my cigarette out on the bottom of his boot after only a few puffs, and spits on the floor.  
“I hate reds,” he mutters walking up to the glass pane. He crosses his arms and watches Tyler who is sitting in the same position I left him in, staring at the ground and wiping his eyes.  
“What’s up with this one?”  
“Doesn’t matter,” I say.  
He looks at me and smirks.  
“Can you get out of my box? I’ve got shit to do, and you can’t stand here all day and stare at him.”  
“Mine got released today, nothing better to do.”  
“So go home,” I sigh.  
“You’re never any fun, Joshie,” he pouts turning to leave, fucking finally. But then he stops.  
“What are you going to do when he leaves? I’ve never seen you get attached to anyone. But of all people? Him? I read his file when it came in. Hard pass. Less than a day and you broke him already. He’s going to be completely unsalvageable by the time this is over. You’re gonna have to pay his for his therapy like I paid for that girl’s broken arm last month.” He laughs remembering the event fondly. It makes my skin crawl. 

“All I’m saying is. Falling in love with your kidnapper...that’s some fucked up shit man. Kid’s not stable.” He finishes. 

“First of all. He’s not in love with me, he’s scared. Second of all, you have no right to talk about stability,” I bark back

He stares at me before a grin cracks his face in half and he cackles like he just got the punchline to the best joke he’s ever heard.  
“See you later, Joshie.”  
“Yeah.”


	3. car radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

\\\Tyler\\\

What am I doing? I’ve never been so humiliated in my life, but I was the one who did this to myself.  
I know I looked like a child hanging on to him like that. I couldn’t help it. It was like I wasn’t even in control of my body. Maybe I’ll get some pity out of it, but at what cost? The way he held me, like I was made of glass, like I was...precious.  
No. Fuck. I have to stop. I’m not a dog. I’m not just going to curl up in someone’s lap because they fed me.

The way he looked at me though. When I sang to him. At first I thought he was just trying to embarrass me, and maybe it started out that way but when I was done, he looked at me with that small knowing smile like he’d been let in on a secret. He said I was good. 

God. Please stop thinking. I wish I had a bottle of sleeping pills. I could just sleep through this whole ordeal and avoid any more severe lapses in judgement. I must be crazy, bad crazy, to be “falling” for him.  
I lean my head back, close my eyes and try to ignore the aching in my joints, and the much more pressing aching in my chest. It’s so hard to perceive the passage of time, I can’t tell five minutes from an hour or vice versa. I spend a while writing in my head, songs, apology letters, suicide notes...  
My head snaps up. My mind goes to dark places so fast. I can’t be alone like this it’s going to kill me.  
Somehow I survive against my own will or otherwise until the door opens again. I’ve got no clue as to how long he’s been gone but it’s either been too long or not long enough. I try my best to look neutral at his return. He’s holding a big brown and purple paper bag in one hand and gym bag in the other. He shakes the paper bag smiling.  
“I hope you like Taco Bell, I got held up longer than I expected so I had to grab something quick.” He settles is front of me cross legged again. I will the blood rushing towards my cheeks away, I don’t think it works.  
“Here,” he holds the over stuffed bag open towards me “I got way too much stuff take whatever you want.”  
I grab a random item without looking and unwrap it. I almost crack a smile. It’s a Cheesy Gordita Crunch, the same thing I get every time I visit Taco Bell. I eat, quietly, avoiding him with my eyes.  
“Hey,” he says softly. I look up at him and I’m met with what looks like genuine concern.  
“Don’t worry about this morning. You’re probably embarrassed or mad at yourself. I’m in the same boat, honestly. No one can stay strong forever, hell, you’re just a kid.”  
I wish he’d stop looking at me like this, because I like it too much. I can’t think of anything to say so I just nod. Somehow I’m not hungry anymore so I sit awkwardly while he eats.  
After a while he stands up and leans over me, I tense up while he unchains me. He’s so close I can smell him. A little bit of sweat mixed with laundry detergent and cologne. It’s intoxicating and I hate myself.  
He reaches out his hand to help me up but I stand by myself almost losing my footing from the lack of recent use of my legs. He leads me behind a partition and I’m surprised he lets me stand with his back turned to me. Behind the partition there’s and shower. It looks like a gym shower with several shower heads and a curtain is strung up crudely alongside one of them.  
“I’ll be on the other side of the wall. Call me when you’re finished and I’ll bring you some new clothes.” And with that he walks away. I watch him go and wait a few seconds after he’s out of sight to undress. I stretch and work the kinks out of my sore muscles before closing the curtain around myself and turning on the water. It’s cold but it feels good somehow. There’s nothing in here but a bar of soap. As I’m working a lather around my body I happen to look down, I blink dumbly.  
At my feet there’s something shiny and metal. I glance behind my shoulder as I slowly lean down and pick it up. It’s a little bit shorter than my hand from tip to heel, and tapered near the bottom. It looks almost like a railway spike but smaller, and with a head like a nail. It’s not even rusted. I close it in my first and push it down with my thumb to see how much of it would stick out while still maintaining a good grip on it. A good several inches. This could hurt someone, maybe even kill someone if used correctly. I swallow hard. Looking around a little more I see the tile of the shower closer to the ceiling has a lip on it. I stand on my tip toes and slot it on the edge, and step back to see that it’s well hidden enough. No one would notice if it weren’t pointed out.  
But I’ll know it’s there.  
I finish washing myself quickly and peek behind the curtain.  
“Joshua?” I hate and love the way his name tastes on my tongue. After a moment his hand emerges from the other side of the partition holding a bundle of clothes. And no towel. Jesus Christ.  
I take the clothes, careful to avoid brushing our hands together, and dress quickly, cringing when the clothes cling to my wet body. They’re way too big on me they must belong to him. I think about pressing the collar of the shirt against my face and inhaling, but I refrain. I step on the other side of the wall and Josh looks up from his phone and smiles.  
“A little too big?” He asks.  
“A little,” I try to lighten my tone but I can’t. He’s only a few inches taller than I am but he still seems to tower over me in some extra-physical way. He turns and walks back to the center of the room near my chains and grabs his soda off the ground. I follow him. After a few sips he leans down towards the gym bag and pulls a little orange medicine bottle with no label out. He tosses it to me and I bat it around a few times before catching it. I stare at the bottle recognizing the greenish oblong pills inside.  
“I got a copy of your medical records before all of this,” he says as if it’s a totally normal thing to say to someone.  
I open my mouth to voice my surprise but I decide I’m better off knowing the how’s and why’s.  
“I couldn’t find your prescription in your house so I had to obtain them elsewhere. I promise they’re the same ones you take.”  
No one but my doctor knows I’m on antidepressants. Not even my parents. That’s why he couldn’t find them, they’re not exactly lying around or sitting front and center in a medicine cabinet.  
“I don’t want to take them.” I say.  
“Are the making you feel worse?” He asks with that same look of concern as before.  
I shake my head.  
“Make you feel the same?”  
“No,”  
“Better?” He asks with a hint of confusion.  
“Yeah,” I shrug.  
“Then what’s the problem?” The confusion has a hint of exasperation now.  
“I don’t think I deserve to feel better,” I answer quietly.  
He scoffs, “You need to stop with this self-serving destructive bullshit, Tyler. I’d be making you continue any medication for any other reason. This masochistic punishment you’re feeding into isn’t fucking cute. And I’m not about to deal with a cold turkey SSRI discontinuation.”  
“What do you even know about it?” I snap. I hope he gets angry I hope he hits me more. It would be easier to hate him.  
“More than you do apparently. You’re in a high stress situation as it is, you need to be able to deal with it the way your body and mind was intended to.”  
He snatches the bottle out of my hand, pops it open and shakes a pill into his hand.  
Why won’t he get mad? What do I have to do?  
He holds the pill out in front of me.  
“Take it.” It’s not a suggestion.  
I grab it and put it in my mouth glaring at him. Fuck it.  
I spit it out on the floor next to his feet. He stares down at it for several seconds then looks back at me and sighs through his teeth.  
I brace myself for whatever he’s about to do, I will make him hate me until I have no choice but to hate him back. I flinch when he raises his hand to rake his fingers through his hair.  
“I know what you’re doing. Stop it.” His voice is low and dark, “Stop using me to punish yourself.”  
He’s close enough.  
My glare falters visibly. I can tell by the way his eyes soften.  
“Please take them.” He holds the bottle out.  
I’m not going to win. I take it from him and swallow a pill dry, refusing him when he offers me some of his drink.  
He looks sad. And I don’t feel any better.  
“I’ve got to leave,” he says.  
“Do you really?” I say before I can stop myself.  
He watches me, thinking.  
“No,” he breathes, “I don’t get you, Tyler.”  
He uses my name so often. It sounds almost foreign to me. I wonder how it tastes to him.


	4. tear in my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

//Josh//  
He’s the most dichotomous person I’ve ever met. He’s entitled, but thinks so little of himself. He seems to hate my guts, but wants me to stay around. He’s not subtle, I can tell how badly he wanted me to lash out at him. And honestly if it would make him happy, I might, but I don’t really believe that it would. It would just give him a reason, give him validation for feelings he doesn’t think he deserves to feel. He’s not just depressed. He hates himself and he doesn’t know why. If he can keep trauma coming he doesn’t have to ask why.  
I shouldn’t be so eager to understand him but it’s coming to me so easily. It makes sense. It’s sad but it isn’t complicated.  
I shouldn’t stay but I do. I shouldn’t leave him out of his chains but I do.  
He seems calmer than normal, he’s sitting on the floor eating again, thankfully, rifling through the rest of the bag of food for sauces, and bouncing his leg almost happily. He glances up at me and his mind seems quiet. I feel like that doesn’t happen often. It’s not the food or the shower or being out of his shackles. 

It’s me.

This is a problem, but it’s not one I feel overly compelled to fix. But it should. I’ve made a huge mess of all of this. I can’t blame my feelings on him, I gave too much and took too little. I allowed him to become human to me, and it can’t be undone. I’ve stolen glances that didn’t belong to me at the way he rests his hands, the curl of lashes, the way his eyebrows knit together when he’s nervous, the way his eyes move when he’s lost in thought and the way they screw shut when those thoughts turn on him.  
I’ve watched him from behind the glass and hated myself for it. I’ve read through the musings in his phone and dissected the darkest parts of his heart bleeding out into the words he’s written. I sound like a creep but believe me when I say I’ve never let this happen before. 

He’s a stranger but he doesn’t feel like one anymore. I’ve got twelve days left with him, unless his parents tap out early. It doesn’t happen often but it happens. They haven’t even so much as checked in with me. 

I feel as captive as he is. 

I see him glance up from his food, and then back down again. I don’t know if he simply wants my company or conversation.  
“Josh?” He says quietly, answering my question for me.

“What’s up?”  
“Have my parents talked to you anymore?”  
Painful truth or kind lie.  
I shake my head. He barely reacts and he doesn’t seem to be trying to conceal anything either, so I offer no comfort. Telling people everything is going to be okay when they aren’t actively asking for it can cause more harm than good. It’s like fawning over a child after he falls down at the park. He would have been fine until he realized someone else thought he shouldn’t be.  
“I’m sorry for freaking out about the medicine earlier.” He looks up at me with his chin dipped down into his chest.  
“It’s not a big deal.” I should leave it at that but I continue, “You can talk to me, I mean I’m not a therapist or anything but-“ I trail off.

He smiles. He fucking smiles and my jaw tightens.

“I wouldn’t want to talk to a therapist anyway,” he laughs softly and it sounds like piano keys under his fingers.

“Why’s that?” I say, outwardly unmoved. 

“I don’t want to talk to someone who gets paid to stay around me,” he says and it’s juvenile but it stings a little. 

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” I offer. 

“I know...” it hangs in the air. He looks ashamed.

I want to tell him I understand him. I want to tell him he’s beautiful. I wonder if anyone ever has. It’s feeble romanticism and nothing else but I want to fix him. Even though I know that isn’t a task to be place on any one person’s shoulders, I want to bear the weight. I’d let it crush me.  
“Josh?”  
“Yes, Tyler.”  
His lips move solemnly around his next question, as if he’s already received and accepted denial.  
“Will you...will you do what you did yesterday?”  
I know what he means. I know he’d rather die than say it out loud. So I don’t make him. I stand up and he looks up at me, looking so small. I lean down and easily scoot him back against the wall behind him, before I sidle up to him and wrap my arms around his slender frame. He turns a little bit so he can easily slot his head between my throat and my shoulder. I stay quiet. He’s spoken enough. This is what he needs.  
My heart is pounding wildly and I pray he can’t feel it. He kicks his legs across mine and lets them stay there. His breath is warm on my chest.  
For the time being, I can still convince myself that this is platonic. I recite my reasoning almost religiously. He’s young, he’s terrified, he’s lonely, and he’s damaged. Each and every one of these things could cause his need for physical intimacy and comfort even on their own, but together it’s a sure thing. He stirs a little and now it’s me who can feel his pulse.  
“You alright?” I ask softly.  
He lifts his head and his brows are furrowed and he starts shaking. Little tremors that come and go almost like he’s cold, but this is panic. He stares up at me scanning my face wildly.  
“What is it? Why are you shaking?” I’m getting worried.  
He answers by shifting upwards and pressing his mouth into mine.  
It’s subdued and sloppy and he pulls away after only two or three seconds. He stares at me wall-eyed. Waiting to be scolded? I don’t know.  
I slip my hand under his jaw and pull him back in, everything is out the window now. I could and should have stopped it but I don’t. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands and he grips my shirt in his fists so tightly the fabric will never be normal again.  
As my lips move against his I can sense he’s inexperienced so I slow down, and goddamn it’s hard to slow down. I bite his bottom lip so gently it could barely be consider a bite and his breath hitches in his throat in a high pitched moan. I bite a little harder and he comes undone, writhing in my lap. He’s gasping when I pull away. The realization of what I’ve done, what I’ve allowed to happen, is bashing my head from the inside but ignore it.  
“I’m sorry,” he whispers and before I can quench his fears he continues, “I couldn’t help it. I’ve never-I mean I didn’t know if I’d ever-“  
He’s losing it, he’s shaking harder and yanking at my shirt haphazardly without realizing and he checks out, leaving me to piece together his nonsense. And my conclusion hits me like a truck.  
“You’ve never kissed anyone and you think you’re not going to make it out of here? You’ll never get another chance?”  
He nods feverishly.  
“Tyler...” I don’t know what to say. Inexperienced was an understatement. I feel like taken something from him. I feel dirty.

“I wanted it to be you,” he murmurs staring at the hem of my shirt he’s all but torn to pieces. 

“Why?” I question.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever liked.” 

This is wrong. 

He lays his head back down. Minute by minute his breathing slows. I let my chin rest on top of his hair and I jump a little when I feel both of his hands latch onto one of mine. He holds two of my fingers at a time and gently stretches the space between them and then closes them again, he runs his soft finger tips over my callouses, then twists my ring around my finger a few times. I feel like a human fidget cube.  
I stay quiet, and try to keep my mind the same. I let him self soothe and decide against pushing the uncomfortable but important conversation we should be having, on him. It can wait. Not for long but it can wait.  
A thought penetrates through my will power. What if Brendon is right? How much is this going to irrevocably fuck Tyler up? I’m setting him up for heartbreak and I don’t know what else I can do. I’m not supposed to make contact when this is over. And it’s not like the parents wouldn’t recognize me if I all of a sudden started hanging around their son.  
He’s going to feel abandoned. I’m willfully shoving him further into his own sickness. 

I notice he’s sleeping. I press my lips to his scalp and hold him just a hair tighter. He inhales deeply and shudders, curling himself into me, and sucking at the inside of his cheek before going still again. 

\\\Tyler\\\ 

I don’t remember falling asleep but I wake up when he moves out from under me, and stands up. I peer up at him through slitted eyes, trying to shield them from the buzzing fluorescents on the ceiling.  
He shushes me even though I’ve made no sound.  
“I’m sorry go back to sleep,” he says quietly. I start dozing back off before I even hear the door shut behind him. But then I’m slapped awake by the realization that my wrists are free. I sit up and stare up at the lights watching, waiting for them to shut off, but they don’t.  
What if this is some kind of test? I wait for a few minutes and he doesn’t come back, the lights stay on, and nothing happens. I stand up gingerly and wobble on my sleeping leg up to the mirror. I cup my hands on either side of my eyes and press my face tightly against the glass. I can make out a few tiny blinking lights on the other side.  
It’s one way glass, I suspected as much. It looks like a computer monitor on the other side, maybe. I can’t see well enough, with the lights on behind me but he doesn’t seem to be in there. I try the door, it’s locked of course.  
I wish he hadn’t left. There’s a part of me that’s proud of myself, for acting on my desires, ones I was lying to myself about having. It was a totally insane thing to do, but he kissed me back.  
I wonder if it was pity that drove him to indulge me, but I don’t want to think about that.

Slowly, I pace around the room, happy to be walking. I check out the showers again and make sure my nail is still in it’s spot. It is, but now I see little need for it. I don’t think he’ll hurt me anymore. Not badly anyway. I find myself fantasizing about the future. What if he really likes me? Would he think I was crazy if I asked him to tie me up and slap me some more? I kind of liked it. Maybe just a little.  
Not at the time obviously but the thought of him doing it now...fuck.  
I smile to myself stupidly. But nagging at the back of my skull is the thought that I’m reading too much into this. I’m standing here imagining my life with him. Going to sleep next him and waking up with him. Having a real life. And I don’t even know him. But I know how he makes me feel. I feel down right giddy about a man who hit me over the head and dragged me here for money.  
What’s wrong with me?  
I run my tongue across my lower lip, just to see if I can still taste him. I can’t.


	5. migraine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

//Joshua//

“Yeah...I’ll be there. You too...bye.” I stare at my phone after hanging up. It’s a bit after two in the morning.  
Shit. My father is in the hospital, halfway across the country. It’s not looking great for him. I’ve got to get packed, get a flight back home to Columbus, and lay down as much damage control as I can here before I go.  
This isn’t a phone call I want to make, but my fingers punch the numbers in anyway. I wait for an answer, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.  
“Hey-y-y...”  
He’s drunk.  
“Hey, Brendon. Can you hear me? It’s loud.” I hear music and laughing, and then suddenly a crash.  
“How many glasses are you gonna fuckin’ drop, bitch, Jesus!” He yells to someone laughing like a god damn hyena.  
“I need you to listen, go outside.” I have to raise my voice because he won’t shut up.  
“I’m here, I’m here. I’ll go to the bathroom. Gotta powder my nose, if you know what’m sayin’.”  
Jesus Christ.  
“Puttin’ you on speaker, this counter’s fuckin’ nasty. No one else is in here, what’s up?”  
“I’ve got to go home. I might be a few days. I need you to watch mine. My hands are tied, man.”  
I hear him snort a line, presumably off of his phone screen.  
“Whoo!” He screams in my ear.  
I’m gonna fucking kill him.  
“Are you listening?”  
“Yeah, I got you. I’ll feed your dog, water your plants,” he cackles.  
“Listen to me, he’s not a fighter, he’s not going to try anything. He probably won’t even talk. Leave him alone. Just keep him alive that’s it.” I speak as evenly, and neutrally as possible. If I can keep it uninteresting, maybe I can get him to just do his job. He likes the bending, and loses interest after the break.  
“Sounds like a bore,” he says.  
I sigh, relieved. That’s perfect. That’s what I need to hear.  
“I’m leaving tonight. Probably in the next few hours. He ate tonight. Check in with him sometime tomorrow around noon. He’s got meds in the box. He needs one a day.”  
“Okay. You’re killing my high here, Joshie.”  
“I’ve got to go, anyway. I’ll owe you one. I’ll call when I know I’ll be back.” I say and he hangs up immediately.  
I toss the phone on my bed, and pack a suitcase as fast as I can. In less than half an hour, I pull up to the warehouse, and start jogging downstairs to my holding cell. I open the door and see him curled up on ground asleep, near his chains, strangely enough.  
I debate whether or not to wake him and whether or not to fully explain myself and what I’m leaving him with.  
If I do, and I scare him I know he won’t be able to hide it. If Brendon sees the fear I’ve seen in Tyler’s eyes I don’t know what he’ll do. If I leave it alone and let it play out, Tyler will likely believe mine and Brendon’s temperaments are similar. He’ll probably just be a little shy, or refrain from speaking at all unless necessary.I don’t think he’ll try to invoke anger from anyone but me. He has a reason for that.  
I pray to God that he doesn’t.  
I make my decision to leave him ignorant of his possible danger. He’s just not a good actor.  
I step around him carefully, and turn the crank as quietly as I can, leaving as much give to the chains as is available so I can’t fasten him in without having to move him much.  
It won’t do me any good to leave him unbound. It would raise more suspicion than I need.  
I get one cuff latched around his tiny wrist, holding my breath when it clicks. Then I’m faced with the challenge of prying his other hand out from under him. He stirs a little when I try, and whines at me, still mostly asleep, angry at me for disturbing him. It’s hard not to laugh. I want to scoop him up and hold him and admonish him for his attitude playfully.  
“Come on, Tyler,” I say softly. And he peeks up at me. He looks around confused, before offering his other hand. He yawns and scoots closer to me, as it latches.  
“I can’t stay,” I say and I know the regret is palpable. I hold his hand in mine, squeezing it maybe a little too hard.  
“I have to leave for a few days,” at this he perks up.  
“Why?”  
“I just do it’s important.”  
“I’m going with you?”  
“No. No you can’t. I’m sorry.” I want to tell him I wish he could.  
He furrows his eyebrows and stares at me.  
“What am I going to do? You can’t leave me-“  
“I’ve got a friend,” the use of the word makes me want to spit, “he’s going to take care of you while I’m gone. He knows about our situation here. I’ll be back, okay? Soon as I can.”  
He nods but he looks so sad. I lift his chin and kiss him. It’s closed-mouth and sweet and he melts into me.  
I pull him into my chest and embrace him tightly. He brushes his lips against my throat and I have to get up and leave before it becomes impossible.  
“I’ll see you soon, stay safe.”  
Please stay safe.  
I convince myself he’ll be fine. He hasn’t tried anything serious with me since the first five minutes he was here. I leave without looking back. I can’t look back. I shut the lights off and I’m headed to the airport. 

\\\Tyler\\\  
I wake up in the dark.  
I can remember last night vaguely. I think I might have dreamed that he kissed me after he left.  
I hope he’s alright. He seemed worried, his eyes were tired and it didn’t seem like it was only from lack of sleep. He didn’t say why he was leaving. My stomach starts to turn and I wonder if it’s my fault. Maybe he’s leaving because of me.  
What if I made him uncomfortable? What if he thinks I’m a freak? I try to will myself back to sleep, knowing it won’t work. I hate being alone, I hate having to think.  
My anxiety is burning through every inch of my body. 

What if? What if? What if? What if?

I’ve barely thought about my family this entire time. I felt guilty at first, but honestly I hardly miss them. There were many times I could have been kinder. There were even more times I should have been more honest. More times still there were times where letting them know I was struggling and breaking down and that I really just needed some help, would have solved a whole slew of problems.  
But they were supposed to look out for me. They were supposed to take care of me and notice things that the willfully ignored. I’m not perfect, I’m sick, but I shouldn’t have had to try and fix myself all alone.  
Would my family make sure I took my medicine if they knew about it? Would they comfort me if I asked? They never notice when I don’t eat, or when I lock my door at night and stay in bed until well past the whole next day. They’ve never asked why I’m so tired all the time, or why my eyes are always so red. 

Joshua the fucking criminal takes better care of me than they do and I haven’t even seen sunlight in days. 

Joshua the fucking criminal who maybe abandoned me because I kissed him without even asking, why am I so stupid? 

I keep having the urge to reach for my phone. It happens about every ten minutes or so since I got here. It’s kind of funny when I think about it.  
I wonder if Joshua is on social media. I’ve never gotten into it but I wonder if maybe he has. I try to imagine what he’d post pictures of, what he would decide is important enough to share with his audience. What songs would he share and demand that all his friends listen to?  
This is the most calming thing I’ve thought of today. My eyes are closed even in the pitch black darkness, and I can’t keep a small smile off of my face when I think about him sharing pictures of his coffee from his favorite cafe or his pet. I bet he has a cat. I’ll ask him when he comes back. He will come back. He has to come back. What if he doesn’t come back? 

The lights turn on overhead and I open my eyes. He said someone else would come, but hadn’t given it much thought. I watch the door open and in walks a man, probably about Joshua’s age, give or take. He’s not walking but sauntering towards me. He’s all dark like me, black hair and black eyes. He’s got an almost dead cigarette hanging out of his mouth and dark circles under his eyes.  
He tosses a McDonald’s bag at my feet. 

“I ate some of your fries,” he says, smiling.  
“It’s okay,” I say, not sure how else to respond. I’m not really hungry any way.


	6. emperor’s new clothes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tw: self harm scar mention, emotional & physical abuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

\\\Tyler\\\  
He eyes me with an almost indiscernible trace of confusion. Almost like he’s trying to figure something out. His eyes feel hot on my skin and wish he’d stop. He crouches in front of me.  
“I’m Brendon, and you’re Tyler right?” He’s smiling, and has been since he got here but there’s something dark beneath it. It’s different. I can tell Josh is dangerous but I’m not scared of him.  
This kind of danger is dressed up in ribbons. It’s appealing if only for the risk, but I don’t feel the appeal. I just feel nervous.  
I nod in response to his loaded question. Of course he knows who I am.  
“Don’t wanna talk? That’s okay I guess,” he shrugs, “but I have to know just one thing. I’m dying for it,” he looks eager like a teenaged girl vying for gossip.  
I watch him and I wait.  
“Has he fucked you yet?”  
It’s quiet and beneath its pretty ribbons, it’s sinister.  
I can’t control my face or the way my breath catches in my throat nearly choking me.  
“What?” I exclaim.  
“Don’t worry it’s not a big deal. It’s not the first time or anything,” he chuckles.  
I don’t understand what he means but I don’t ask.  
“Normally I would have joined in on the fun by now but,” his eyes scan over me, trained on various parts of me for just a millisecond too long, “You’re not really my type. And honestly, come to think of it,” he offers and sympathetic smile,  
“You’re not really Joshie’s type either.” 

The words are razor sharp. I try to keep my breathing steady but I know I look like a deer in headlights. I’m starting to understand.  
“You can probably guess this isn’t our first job. You should have seen some of the guys he’s pulled. And that’s just here-“  
I swallow hard as I start to zone out, it’s hard to stay present for the rest of his rambling. It hurts too much.  
It wasn’t me, I didn’t drive Josh away. None of it was ever real. Not to him anyway. I feel I spike of anger in my stomach but it’s quelled by my having to focus on keeping tears from stinging my eyes. Why would Josh do this to me?  
He’s staring at me.  
“So has he?” He asks.  
I shake my head slowly. I thought about lying, for my own pride, but Brendon seems like the type that knows the answer to a question before asking it.  
“Oh...” he barks out a laugh, “Well that explains it. I didn’t get his interest in you at all. Honestly he’d be scraping the bottom of the barrel with you. I guess the getting you to fall in love with him part was fun enough.”  
I stare down at my hands. I can’t look at him anymore. I’m glad I chose not to eat, I think I might’ve thrown up. Some of the first words Joshua ever spoke to me, come to mind and stay there. 

I’ll still ruin you and any chance you have at a normal life after you leave this place and you’ll see me every time you close your eyes.

It wasn’t an empty threat. I believed since then that it was. But the threat empty or not was against my soul and not my body.  
As much as I tried there’s tears in my eyes threatening to fall.  
Brendon leans close and lifts my chin.  
“Shit...you didn’t. I mean, there’s no way you thought it was real, right?” He says with this acidic pseudo-concern.  
I choke on a sob, managing to keep it down.  
“Oh you poor kid. Has no one showed you even the slightest bit of interest in your entire life?” His eyebrows are knit together, something akin to compassion inside the expression.  
“I doubt it,” he says, suddenly shoving my head back and standing up.  
“You’re even dumber than you look, Tyjo. Josh has money, probably about as much as your parents. And he earned it himself. Guys hang all over him constantly, women too for that matter. He could have anyone he wanted and you think he would choose you? You’re scrawny and your head’s all screwed up. Sure, people buy fixer upper houses but, come on. No one has the time or the desire to do whatever the fuck it would take to fix you. He told me all about it.”  
I can’t fucking breathe. Every inch of my body is on fire just under my skin.  
“Please leave me alone,” I whisper and I’m ashamed by the way my voice cracks.  
“This is your own fault,” he says.  
“Please...”  
“You’d have to be some kind of stupid-“  
“Fuck off. Fuck off and leave me alone,” I stare up at him. I don’t care anymore. I hate him. I hate Joshua. I hate myself.  
He smiles half a smile. Showing his teeth and huffing out a mostly silent laugh.  
I watch and can almost see every contour and shadow on his face get darker.  
“He’s been soft on you, hasn’t he? That’s why you have the fucking balls to talk like that? Maybe he doesn’t care to beat you down anymore than life already has, but try me. What else do you wanna say?” He’s crouched in front of me, close enough that we’re just shy of touching noses. I can smell the nicotine in his mouth.  
I say nothing.  
He leans his face to one side so his ear is right in front of my mouth.  
“Nothing? You’ve got nothing else you want to tell me?” He coaxes sweetly.  
“Fuck. Off.” I say regretting it immediately but not nearly enough.  
“You think you’re cute, Tyjo.” He laughs. He pulls back his arm and slaps me so hard my ear starts ringing, and it hasn’t even subsided before he hits me again on the same side. I see a flash of white on the impact and it occurs to me how much Joshua held back when he hit me.  
“Stop it!” I yell panicked. I can feel the blood pooling under my cheek, threatening an angry purple bruise.  
He pinches the skin attached to my cheek bone and shakes me gently.  
“You wanna tap out already? That’s not going to work for me. Does Joshie stop when you ask? Or maybe when you cry, then he stops? I’m not going to stop until you can’t even think the word ‘stop.’” His voice is so sweet.  
I’m terrified. 

He stands up and begins unbuckling his belt right in front of my face.  
“What are you doing?” I ask staring up at him in terror.  
“Don’t get any ideas, angel. Not interested in you sucking me off. I probably wouldn’t even be able to stay hard.” He says looping the belt through itself and slipping the noose around my neck.  
“Alright,” He begins clinically after leaning over me, “You’ve got no fucking discipline. Joshua has failed you in more ways than one. I’m going to correct it and you’re not going to forget it.”  
He pulls the belt to bring my face closer to his. I can feel his breath on my quivering lips.  
“Things are about to get very scary, Tyler,” he says softly, before taking the buckle in his fist and jamming it forward against my windpipe. Suddenly I can’t breathe. It’s more instinct than anything but I bring my legs up and try to leverage myself higher, and start clawing at his wrists. He pulls back and his fist connects with the side of my face.  
“Get your fucking hands off of me,” he growls, “Why does he have these things so loose anyway? Joshie said you were already broken. You haven’t even snapped yet.”  
He moves away from me and toward the crank dragging me with him by his belt. When the crank starts turning, there’s no space for the chain to shorten so my shoulder blades almost touch before he lets go of the belt and I collapse. The chains pull me back against the wall while I’m scrambling to stay upright.  
He grabs hold of the belt and I’m hyperventilating.  
“Please, fuck,” I get out through my gasping.  
“You’re wasting air,” he mutters, tightening the noose around my throat again. I can’t struggle anymore and it makes me panic even more. My heartbeat is pounding in my ears, booming like a cannon as my blood runs out of oxygen. My eyes are screwed shut and I’m pulling at the cuffs so hard I feel my wrists going raw and if this goes on much longer I’m going to break skin.  
He lets go, grabs my hair and twists my head up so I have to look at his eyes. My chest heaves taking in as much air as possible, almost enough to get sick on.  
“How long do you think you go before passing out?”  
“Please stop, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten mad, it’s not your fault.” I say desperately.  
“Usually people go about nine to fifteen seconds, pass out and wake back in just a few seconds. I wonder if I can get you to seize.”  
“Brendon, please.”  
“Shut up,” He says cutting me off again, this time for much longer. I’m trying to scream but nothing comes out. My pulse is deafening in my head, I’m looking right at him and he doesn’t feel real. Time is slowslowslow and nothing makes any noise.  
Joshua.  
I see him in my head and he feels more real than anything else.  
Suddenly I’m being slapped awake and my heart is pounding and my eyes fucking hurt, I’ve got tears streaming down my cheeks that I don’t remember crying.  
“Ten seconds,” Brendon states, “Should we go a few more times and get an average?”  
“God, please no. Fuck-please-just stop.” My voice doesn’t even sound like me. I’m nearly sobbing and he’s smiling down at me. I’m going to die today.  
“Are you praying, Tyler? No one can hear you but me. I promise.” I don’t understand how he can look so pleasant through his actions.  
“You can keep trying if you like. For all intents and purposes I might as well be god to you,” he muses.  
I can’t get myself to stop crying and I don’t even know what it’s for anymore. He keeps this back and forth going for I don’t know how long. I don’t know how many times I’ve gone under, I don’t know anything. Every time I go out he hits me harder than the last time.  
I’ve screamed and sobbed, I’ve begged and prayed and prayed and prayed. I’ll say anything he wants me to say, do anything he wants me to do. But he doesn’t want anything from me he doesn’t already have. My attention, my tears, my terror. I have nothing left.  
I’m not a human being, I’m a passive object to be acted upon.  
He does stop at one point to admire the burst blood vessel the last bout left in my eye. He has to pry my eyelid open because I won’t stop screaming.  
As I’m about to pass out again I wonder how long he can do this to me before he accidentally kills me.  
I don’t think I would mind.  
He smacks me awake and I can’t even cry anymore. I don’t feel anything, everything is dulled.  
“Fuck! Jesus Christ! You fucking pissed yourself.” I hadn’t noticed, it must have happened while I was out. I don’t care. Maybe he’ll stop.  
“You’re fucking disgusting,” he spits. He uncuffs me and drags me across the room to the mirror and throws me down in front of it.  
“Look at yourself.”  
I just lay there curled into myself and breathe. It’s the longest I’ve been able to do so in the last who knows how long. My best is guess is maybe half an hour. Maybe longer. I don’t care anymore.  
He grabs my hair and yanks me up.  
“Look at yourself. Take a long hard look and tell me you really believed that he loved you.”  
I stare at myself. I don’t see me. I don’t see Tyler Joseph. It’s like looking at a stranger. Half of my left eye is red where it should be white. My lip is split. I’m heaving like I’ve just run a marathon. The belt left a nasty bruise all the way around my neck. I can see busted vessels veining off all the way around it. My cheek is turning purple and red, the left side got it way worse.  
I start crying again.  
“He never gave you what you really deserved did he?”  
I look up at his reflection.  
“This is what you deserve isn’t it?”  
“Yes,” I say without even thinking.  
He laughs like we’re friends.  
“I know you’re just saying what you think I want to hear, but if I had about a week with you I’d have you believing it.”  
I already do.  
“Get out of those clothes, you nasty fuck.”  
I look down. These are Josh’s clothes.  
I struggle to my feet and start undressing. I don’t care if he sees me.  
He watches me closely. I don’t even attempt to cover myself. I don’t want to do anything that might make him angry.  
My mind is all dreamy, I feel high, but not in a good way. It feels like a dream, a nightmare but I’m not actively afraid, I just want it to be over.  
“I’m sorry,” I whisper without knowing why. He turns and walks out of the room leaving me naked and shaking near the door. He returns with a trash bag and he holds it open while I drop Josh’s clothes inside.  
“Go take a shower.” I see the nail in my mind’s eyes. Perched on the tile. Waiting for me.  
“I don’t have any more clothes,” my voice sounds like it’s been dragged through a canyon of rocks and gravel. I need him to leave for longer than a few seconds like last time.  
“That’s not my problem.”  
I say nothing and make my way to the showers. I glance over my shoulder and I see that he’s followed me. He’s leaning against the wall opposite to me. I need to get my hands on that nail. The cold water hits me and I just stand in it. I need to be awake. My mind needs to be steady and quiet. I need to be ready. This may be my only chance.  
I would kill him. If I had the opportunity I’d do it. I’d stab him so many times his own family would never recognize him. I’d leave him right here until Joshua came back. And then. 

And then. 

Could I kill Joshua? 

I felt anger for a moment before but it’s gone and I can’t retrieve it. I don’t have any anger left. It’s more like hurt, but not even that is a good enough word. It’s a vacuum. An absence. It’s just a lack where something used to be. And it hurts like sucking all the air out of a cavity.  
I wouldn’t be able to do it. It’s my fault for thinking that he would really feel like that toward me.  
I’m shivering under the water and every inch of body is covered in chills. I turn slowly and see him looking down at his phone. In less than a second the nail is in my hand, and I turn my back on him.  
It feels so much heavier than before, it feels hot and icy cold. My adrenaline is playing tricks on me. I put it between my teeth and wash my body and even the water feels warmer against my racing blood. I stand in under the water as long as he lets me. When he finally orders me to get out, I don’t even turn around. I reach behind myself and drag the curtain and close myself in behind it.  
“What the hell did I just say?” He sounds mad.  
I hear his footsteps as he gets closer, and I turn around and spit the nail into my hand. My knuckles turn white around it. When he yanks the curtain back I lunge at him, managing to stick into his right shoulder before he jumps back.  
He’s smiling and holding the wound,  
“Where’d you even get that?” He’s still laughing at me.  
“Come on,” He beckons, “Hit me again.”  
He looks unhinged.  
“There’s been several attempts on my life but this is by far my favorite. A naked, soaking wet teenager with a nail that’s amazingly even smaller than his fucking dick.”  
He steps toward me and I try to hit again but he moves too quickly.  
I nearly slip on the wet ground and fall on my ass but I manage to catch myself.  
“Watch out,” he says, “You hit the dirt, and I’ll be on your ass before you can blink.”  
He seems way less scared than I am. My head’s still spinning.  
What am I doing? If I don’t kill him what’s going to happen to me?  
I’m shaking and I can’t stop. I look at him almost like I’m hoping he’ll help me.  
“You’re having second thoughts.” It’s not a question. I can see his shoulders drop some like he’s started to relax. Maybe he was at least a little bit scared.  
I nod.  
“Then just put it down,”  
I’ve put myself in a corner. If I keep going he’s going to get me, somehow. I’ll slip up just enough. If I stop I have no doubt I’ll spend all day being tortured.  
I don’t have the energy for either option.  
“Tyler,” he raises his voice.  
I take a micro step backwards.  
“No one can blame you for fighting back. It’s stupid...as hell. But it’s not unreasonable. Put it down, and I’ll leave for the day.”  
He’s lying. He’s going to hurt me. I’m panicking. I need to keep breathing, I need my body to stop hurting. I can’t do any of this over again. I never should have done this in the first place, what was I thinking?  
“I don’t know what to do,” I say but it comes out as a whimper.  
I’m shaking and gripping the nail so hard I’m leaving marks on the inside of palm from my fingernails.  
The pain is keeping me from losing myself.  
“Drop it, or toss it to me, and then go sit down, or Jesus, do us all a fucking favor and jam it into your own neck,” he’s not smiling anymore.  
Maybe he’s right.  
He steps towards me slowly with his hands out.  
“Stop,” I say. He doesn’t.  
“Stop!” I can’t sound intimidating to save my life. I just sound like I’m going to cry.  
He gets too close and my instincts kick in. I slash at him, and it rips through his shirt leaving a thin stream of blood down the middle of his chest. On the down swing he grabs my wrist and pulls me, connecting his knee with my gut.  
I double over and he shoves me onto my stomach and wrenches my wrist behind my back until I let go of the nail. I’m gasping and coughing from the blow when he flips me onto my back. He’s got one of my wrists pinned in his hand above my head and my other arm is under his knee. I don’t fight. I can’t.  
He’s barely paying attention to me, just examining the nail.  
“It’s a masonry nail. And one hell of an oversight...” he says to no one in particular.  
“What exactly were you going to do with it? You’d need an astronomical shot to kill me.” He looks down at me like he’s expecting an answer. I decline.  
“Maybe straight through two ribs and into a lung...wouldn’t be fast but maybe.” He runs the tip slowly and gently over my rib cage and I try my best not to squirm.  
“How about here?” He brings the point to my temple and hammers on the head gently with his thumb a few times and I flinch each time.  
“You’d have to get through some bone here, but it might work, if you had enough rage behind the swing. Do you have any left?”  
I stare up at him silently. I don’t.  
He smiles.  
“This would be your best bet.” He says softly, sliding the blunt tip down my cheek, and stopping a few inches beneath my jawbone.  
“Here’s your carotid. The same bad boy that was making you feel woozy earlier under the belt. It’s soft. You wouldn’t even have to twist it around very much, and it’d be over.”  
He presses a little harder, and I wince.  
“But we don’t want you dead, now do we?”  
I don’t fucking know. Do we?  
“We have to do something though. You wouldn’t drop it when I told you to. I could go get a hammer and nail you to the wall by your tongue.” He laughs like it’s a joke but I can’t be sure.  
“You got me twice, nice job by the way. I could go for an eye for eye type of thing,” with no pause at all he reels back and stabs me in the shoulder.  
I’m so taken aback I barely react until I look down and see blood and the pain rushes in.  
“Fuck!” I scream and start kicking and struggling against him.  
“Stay still,” he warns, it’s difficult not to listen to him. I don’t know if it’s fear or exhaustion or the way he’s indoctrinated submission into me, but I still beneath him almost immediately. Except for the way my chest is puffing in and out wildly.  
“Very good,” he says while caressing my cheek softly. I feel myself leaning into the touch only because it doesn’t hurt. I can barely even feel embarrassed by it, I’m almost thankful for it. What is he doing to me?  
“It’s gonna be to hard to recreate the one on my chest at this angle. What should I do instead?” He asks.  
My eyes are closed tight trying to cope with the burning pain in my shoulder.  
“You could forgive me,” I manage to get it through my teeth.  
He laughs.  
“I know, I just won’t use this,” I hear the clink of the nail being dropped, and I force my eyes open to watch him flip a pocket knife out of his jeans.  
I lose it.  
“No-no-no-no,” I scream unable to control myself as flail and kick beneath him.  
“Cut it out,” he sounds annoyed.  
“I know you want to be good. You’re touch and validation driven. I can see it.”  
I stop stock-still.  
“What?” I say.  
“You’re not some complicated enigma. I can tell how badly you need, fuck, just about anything you can get. You don’t care if it feels good or not. You just want someone to pay attention to you. That’s why you fell for him. He had to be around you and that was all it took.”  
I barely even notice when he takes the knife and nicks the skin in the middle of my sternum and starts dragging it slowly downward. My teeth clench against the pain but I don’t make a sound.  
“I’m right, at least mostly, aren’t I? My saying it out loud won’t change anything, it’s how you’re hardwired. You agreed you deserved everything from before and that was just for slighting me. Will you really change your tune now that you’ve done something a lot more serious?”  
I shut my eyes when the pain becomes unbearable.  
“Look at me,”  
I do.  
He cuts a little deeper and I whine through my teeth. He might as well have plunged the knife straight through my chest and down to my navel, peeled back my ribs and read the tags on my soul.  
I really am messed up. He’s right. I’m so starved.  
My eyes well up.  
“You’ve still have tears left? You’re gonna get dehydrated. Remind me to get you some water.” He says finishing his sentence with a quick flick of his knife ending the ten or so inch cut.  
“That wasn’t so hard was it? And besides you’re not scared of a knife, I saw the scars on your thighs earlier,” he smirks down at me and my tears fall down into my hairline.  
He flips his knife back down and puts it in his pocket and stands to his feet. I sit up and watch him scoop the nail off the ground.  
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be home. I don’t want to be.  
“Brendon?”  
He looks down at me, expressionless.  
“Can I have please have some clothes? It gets really cold in here, I’m sorry.” I wince, I keep apologizing for nothing.  
He stares for a moment and then nods.  
“I’ll see what he’s got out there,” he says.  
He leaves and I start crying. I feel like hitting myself. Why can’t I stop?  
I want Joshua, I want him to hold me.  
He comes back a few minutes later and I scrub at my eyes with the back of my arm. He’s got some clothes and I feel relief for the first time in this hundred year long day. A long with the clothes he brought a bottle of water and surprisingly my medication. I hadn’t even thought about it. I wish he’d brought some Tylenol.  
I stand up and take the items from him and thank him timidly, while pulling the sweat pants up. I have to yank the drawstring to make them fit. I hear him light a cigarette when I pull the shirt on over my head. I watch the smoke pour out of his nose as I pop a pill and gulp down some water so fast I nearly choke.  
He catches me staring.  
“Smoke?”  
I’m poised to shake my head but I purse my lips and nod instead.  
He smiles and huffs.  
“Like fuck you do. Whatever, here,” he pops one out and hands it to me. I slip it between my lips, and he flicks his lighter on to light it.  
I stare at the flame, and the paper starts turning black.  
“You have to breathe in when I light it, dumbass.”  
I nod nervously and he tries again.  
I inhale and it’s minty and bitter and makes my mouth dry. I start coughing and he laughs at me.  
I try a few more times catching glances at the way he does it. It makes me dizzy enough that I feel wobbly. It makes my heart race. I blink hard a few times.  
“You want to finish it?” He asks when I’m about half way through. I don’t but I tell him that I do. Joshua thinks I’m self destructive. Fuck it.  
I manage to get through the whole thing and I’ve got a buzz going. It’s a weird feeling. He takes the butt from me smashes it out under his shoe.  
“Go sit down,” he says, nodding toward the chains.  
I listen but my heart starts racing. I’m afraid to be bound again. I’m afraid of not being able to fight back. Being trapped.  
“Relax,” He says slowly. I didn’t even know I was visibly distressed. I’m seated and still tense when he leans over me and secures the cuffs. I look up at his face briefly, he’s not focused on me anyway.  
He would be attractive if he wasn’t so terrifying.  
Once he’s finished he crouches in front of me. I hope he can’t see my breathing quicken. I don’t know if he’s going to hurt me or not. He lifts his hand slowly and touches my face.  
I flinch instinctively but no pain comes aside from the tenderness in my cheek. I open my eyes and he’s scanning my face.  
“You’re not so bad to look at all roughed up like this,” his smile is only half malicious.  
I can’t look at his eyes for long.  
“You like it, at least a little bit though. It scratches an itch. Makes it so you don’t have to do it yourself. Feels way better when someone else does it, yeah?”  
He runs his thumb over the split on my lower lip, and goddamn it I’m fighting back more tears.  
“You can tell me if I’m wrong, I won’t take it personally.”  
I shake my head and a portion of the movement is a shiver.  
His lips curl.  
“Hm. You are a sick puppy, aren’t you? Way sicker than your doctor thinks. I’ll see you tomorrow, Tyjo.” He says as he stands up.  
I don’t want the lights off. I want to say so but if I don’t trust my voice. I don’t watch as he leaves. I just close my eyes and listen as the buzzing above my head disappears, pretending the darkness was my own choice.


	7. chlorine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cw: sexual content
> 
> Tw: selfharm scars mention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

//Joshua//  
I’m standing outside of the hospital. My dad pulled through and he’s being released tomorrow. My folks aren’t happy I’m not staying longer but they understand I’m busy.  
They think I own a construction company. Answering all of their questions with bold faced lies is exhausting but what else can I do to explain my wealth? They never come to visit and they have no reason not to believe me, so I’m not too worried about it.  
I glance at my phone and three unanswered messages I’ve sent to Brendon. I’m worried.  
I try calling him.  
Surprisingly he picks up after a few rings. 

“Hey, Joshie, you back in town yet?” 

“I’m still here. I’m leaving the day after tomorrow. How are things?” I manage to keep my concern at a minimum. 

“Could be better. Your boy mouthed off, and you seemed pretty confident he wouldn’t. Refused to eat, too. I left it just in case.” I can hear the smirk in his voice. 

I can feel my chest seizing up and I have to clear my throat before I speak again,

“Are...are you still there? I could talk to him.” 

“I’m home already, he’ll be mostly healed up by the time you get back, though.” 

“What did you do to him?” It comes out before I can stop it. 

I hear him laughing, “Nothing he didn’t deserve, and I can get that from him in writing, if you want. Listen, I’m going out tonight, I’ll see you in two days.” 

“Brendon,” my voice wavers.

He hangs up and I almost throw my phone. I can feel bile in my throat as I send him a fourth message I already know will go unanswered. 

Sent 4:47PM  
Call me when you see him tomorrow. Let me talk to him.

I want to scream. I want to hop on the next flight or take a fucking taxi the whole way back tonight. I did this to him. It may not have been my fault or on purpose but it was me. 

I’m worried he’ll hate me. For leaving him with a monster. Maybe it’s for the best that he does. I won’t be able to end this relationship of sorts we’ve cultivated by myself. Even if I thought I had it in me to do so, I don’t want to.  
But if he hates me for neglecting his safety, it’s better than any alternative. It’ll be his choice.  
For the first time in years I feel the threat of tears. It’s not an arrival, just a tap on my eyelids like “Hey! I’m here!”  
I attempt to swallow the lump in my throat but it doesn’t go down. Part of me thinks Brendon is lying. Part of me wishes the former part was true.  
How bad is it? I’ve seen him hurt people. Some that deserved it and some that didn’t. He’s worse to the ones that don’t deserve it, and Tyler might agree that he did but it wouldn’t make it true.  
I take in a ragged breath and push an image of Tyler weeping in the dark, bruised and bloodied clutching a broken wrist, or nose, or soul, out of my head. 

Two days. He has to survive two more days. 

I have to survive two more days.

\\\Tyler\\\  
I haven’t been to sleep. I know it’s been hours. I’ve been having difficulties measuring time but I know it’s been hours. I’m exhausted but I also can’t calm down. 

I couldn’t hold it in for more than a minute or so after he left. I cried and cried and it felt good. It wasn’t the pain anymore, it was the agony. The deep dark vacuum inside me where my infantile love for him used to be and now it was like a candle flame with the lid fastened on. Starved and smothered and choked until it was just nothing. I will be the flame soon. The lack of flame.  
My throat burned from the smoke and my now wrecked voice. I could barely get any sound to come out.  
But that was hours ago. Real, long hours, that I perceived clearly. I’m quiet now. I can smell him on my clothes but I pretend I don’t. I can see him in my head but I pretend I don’t.  
I’m hyper aware of the food sitting next to me but I don’t want it. My stomach is sitting right below my Adam’s apple. If I try to eat I’ll have to sit in my own vomit until Brendon comes back.  
Slowly, I trace my finger up and down the cut on my chest. It stings but it’s grounding. It makes me feel like I’m inside my body and I need to stay inside my body.  
I already decided I couldn’t kill Josh, even if I had the opportunity. But I want to hurt him. I want him to feel how I do.  
It’s not like I could fight him. I’d be in worse shape than I am now.  
I want him to feel it though, and part of me; most of me feels bad for that.  
Tonight is colder than normal. I wish I could pull my arms inside his sweatshirt but the chains are too short.  
I keep my eyes closed. Somehow it’s darker when I open them. I lean my head against the wall and it’s not the least bit relaxing. 

When I open my eyes again I’m laying on my back in the middle of the floor. I’m staring straight up at the ceiling except there is no ceiling. It’s just four walls and a floor. The sky is a swirling mess of gray and green and deep yellow and purple. I’m not afraid. 

“Looks like rain,” Josh says. He’s been next to me this whole time. His fingers are laced with mine. I look at him for a moment and then back up at the sky. 

“That’s okay,” I say softly. I was angry at him but I can’t remember why now. It wasn’t important. 

“Tyler,” he says, and before I can answer he adds, “There’s no door in here.” 

Before the words have left his mouth rain begins to pour down on us, staining our clothes grey, green, deep yellow, and purple. He squeezes my hand tighter, but neither of us move.  
We’ll just drown here then. I don’t mind. I’m still not afraid.  
He shifts next to me and I close my eyes when I feel his weight as gets on top of me. He kisses my face, my neck, and down my chest. It’s soft and gentle and I don’t mind drowning here like this.  
He stills.  
I open my eyes and he’s just above me, smiling the kindest most gentle smile I’ve ever seen.  
Slowly, almost imperceptibly his eyes glaze over and he opens his mouth to speak and nothing comes out but a long rolling clap of thunder as loud as a gun shot. I’m afraid.

I jolt awake. I’m still in the dark. I’m still alone. I’m gasping and slick with sweat. I hear more thunder, and I jump.  
I wipe my face with my palm and try to slow my breathing. After a few minutes it works.  
How hard must it be storming that I can hear it down here?  
The thunder booms above me every minute or so, it must be bad out there. I hope there aren’t any leaks down here, I might drown for real.  
After awhile I feel myself dozing off and I sit up straighter. I don’t want any more dreams. As fantastical as it was, it felt real. He felt real, and I don’t want to feel him. Partly, that’s a lie, but it’s true enough.  
I really felt his hand in mine. Calloused and warm. Strong and gentle.  
I shake my head. It wasn’t him though. It was me. It was my stupid brain willing him back to me, but it doesn’t work like that. I don’t mean anything to him. So he means nothing to me. I’ll prove it. 

I’ll prove it to him, and to myself.

 

//Joshua//  
It’s almost dawn. I’ve barely slept all night. The hotel bed is comfortable enough but I’m just not tired.  
I wish I was with him. I wish I could exist in a universe where he could be with me here.  
Despite my size-able funds, I’m a bit of a penny pincher and I’m sure this dinky hotel wouldn’t impress him.  
Maybe the adventure of the cheap hotel would be novelty enough for him.  
I should have brought him. He wouldn’t have run. He would have laid here with me, and his heartbeat would put me to sleep.  
Maybe he wouldn’t want to sleep.  
I close my eyes and even though it’s wrong I can’t help but picture and almost feel his fingernails raking my back. The way he’d tense and shake under me. How his moans would sound and how small he’d feel beneath me. I’d kiss every inch of him, I’d paint him with affection until he believed he was as beautiful as I believed. It would be his first time, I’d go slow and gentle and I’d make it perfect.  
I swallow hard. I shouldn’t think like this.  
I just need to get back to him. That’s all there is to it.  
I roll over and grab my phone.  
I squint at the screen as I scroll through my recent calls.  
“Hi, this is Joshua Dun. Yes ma’am, I need to cancel a flight.”

\\\Tyler\\\  
The lights flick on. I was somewhat asleep but I lost track of time again. No more dreams.  
Brendon walks through the door and my heart starts racing.  
“Good morning,” he says. He looks tired. The dark circles from yesterday seem darker.  
“Sleep through the storm?”  
I shake my head.  
“It was bad, me neither. But I was out most of the night.”  
He sits on the floor in front of me.  
“What time is it?” I ask, my voice is ruined.  
“About noon,” he says sitting down in front of me, working a kink out of his neck.  
“Never do drugs, Tyjo,” he says absentmindedly.  
“I didn’t plan on it,” I say softly.  
“Yeah,” He says, “Neither did I.”

The silence following is uncomfortable.

“Can I have another cigarette?” I ask, without looking up, after a minute.

I can hear him pulling the pack out and flip the box open.  
“Nicotine’s a drug, kiddo,” he says and I look up to see him placing the cigarette between my lips himself. He lights it and I can feel that tiny high buzzing in the back of my head. I close my eyes. I need that tiny high to make it through today, to do what I’ve set out to do.  
“Keep it up and I’ll have to send your parents an invoice for this pack,” he shakes the pack and I hear them rattling loosely inside.  
I wonder how he can be so disarming. His humor and his smile and everything about him screams charisma.  
On the news people that knew the criminals being reported always said they were quiet, kind, kept to themselves. Brendon is like a television host. He demands attention and plays to an audience, even if the audience is just him.  
I think he’s sick like I am but in a different way.  
I feel him watching me as I dare to take a longer drag than normal. It burns at my raw throat and I manage to keep it in without coughing. It only catches me a little when I exhale.  
“Joshie’s coming back tomorrow,” he says.  
I don’t know what he wants me to say or do so I sit silently and hope for the best.  
“I thought he’d be gone longer, I was hoping to have more time with you. You’re more interesting than I thought you’d be,” he finishes.  
He isn’t complimenting me, I know that.  
My heart is racing as take another hit.  
“Brendon?” My voice is shaking. He hums back at me.  
“Could you unchain me? Just for a little bit?”  
He squints at me.  
“Why? You find another nail in here somehow?” He laughs humorlessly.  
I shake my head.  
“No, I won’t try anything. I just need to move. Stretch and stuff. Please?”  
He watches me carefully, deciding how much energy he’s willing to expend. After a few moments he surprisingly leans forward.  
“If you come at me, I’m going to hurt you. And it’s going to be so much worse than yesterday. Do you understand?” His voice is heavy and dark.  
I nod, and he begins to undo the restraints. He sits back down afterward and watches me closely.  
I look down as I stretch my arms and it feels so good it hurts. I take a deep breath. I slowly push myself forward, he’s only a couple of feet in front of me.  
I know this won’t make me feel any better, not really, but I need it. I can hear Joshua’s voice in the back of my mind talking about my leanings toward self destructing, but it doesn’t stop me from crawling to close the distance between Brendon and I.  
I stop just short of him when he narrows his eyes at me. I blink, glancing at his lips and back up to his eyes. I lean in and he doesn’t stop me when I press my lips against his.  
He doesn’t kiss back and I’m not surprised and I only linger for a moment before pulling back. I was expecting violence before being able to push my agenda as far as he’d let me but he just stares.  
“How fucking damaged are you?” His voice doesn’t have as much bite as it usually does but it makes me wince anyway. He sounds incredulous but...sad.  
I try to lean in again but he puts his hand against the center of my chest and holds me there.  
I can’t say I didn’t anticipate rejection, but I didn’t expect it to hurt nearly this bad.  
“What are you doing?” He asks.  
I swallow hard and push weakly at his wrist and he lets me. I move closer and he starts standing, pulling me up with him by my arm roughly. My legs are shaky but I follow his movement and stand still, looking up at him and trying to decipher the look in his eyes. I can’t.  
“Please,” I say so softly I can barely hear it.  
“Please what?” He barks back.  
“I don’t know. Anything...anything,”  
“Are you doing this to keep me from hurting you?”  
“I don’t care if you hurt me, I want you to,” I respond quickly, as if the words mean nothing.  
He shakes his head and tongues the inside of his cheek, smiling and huffing through his nostrils. He snatches the dead cigarette out of my hand and tosses it.  
“Where the fuck have you been?” He muses, grabbing my collar, and pulling me close to him just to immediately push me into the wall. His mouth connects with mine and he doesn’t kiss like Joshua at all. I can’t keep up but I’m trying. I feel his hand on the back of my neck and it trails up finding a fistful of my hair. I gasp and whine when he bites down on my bottom lip, reopening the split.  
He sucks at it no doubt tasting the blood.  
When he pulls away I’m leaning in searching for the severed contact.  
He grips my jaw, and I open my eyes.  
“Did Joshua ever kiss you?” He asks.  
I swallow hard and it gets stuck on the side of his hand.  
“N-no. I kissed him,” I say.  
He clicks his tongue at me.  
“He was my first,” I continue, knowing it’ll fuel the fire.  
He raises his eyebrows at me.  
“Is that right? And here I thought you’d give it to anybody.”  
He lets me go and puts both his hands against the wall on either side of my head. He lowers his face against the crook of my neck and kisses me there, making me yelp when he bites the soft area between my neck and my shoulder.  
“I like the noises you make, Tyler. You almost sound like a girl,” he says against my throat. He slots his knee between my legs and kisses my open mouth when I gasp. His tongue rolls against mine and it makes my head cloudy. I move against him, seeking the pressure of his hips against mine. There’s a fire beneath my belly and it aches for friction.  
“Easy,” he breathes, “We have time...”

I have no idea in hell what I’m doing but if he notices, he doesn’t address it. He’s doing most of the work anyway.  
I’m still the same passive object.  
He’s started sucking marks onto my throat and I feel his teeth every time I moan. I imagine Joshua seeing those marks and I hope it stings.  
I run my fingers through his hair and I think he likes it. His breathing changes and it feels good to get a reaction.  
He grabs the small of my back and pulls me closer, and he bites me so hard it nearly breaks the skin. He chuckles against my lips, kissing me harder when I whine.  
I’m terrified of making a fool of myself but I work up the courage to start unbuttoning his shirt. I fumble a bit because my eyes are closed but he’s patient enough. I pull myself away, start kissing his collarbones and I hear him groan softly. The sound makes me shudder. He pulls at my hair and I start moving down his chest and in an act of boldness I sink to my knees and look up at him timidly.  
“Whatcha doing?” He grins.  
“I have no idea,” I confess, struggling with his belt buckle. My hands are shaking. He pushes them away and does it himself.  
“Can you manage the button?” He asks.  
I can see that outline of his arousal in his jeans and the size of it gives me second thoughts, but I press on.  
I get his jeans undone and he pulls himself out of his boxers. My eyes get huge. It’s not like I have too much to compare it to except a few pornos but it’s big.  
He’s stroking himself and he lifts my chin when I won’t stop staring.  
“You look scared, Tyjo,” he says.  
I shake my head. I’m lying.  
“Well, you put yourself down there, what are you going to do next?”  
I inhale deeply and reach up wrapping my hand around the base of his cock. He lets go of it and watches me, resting his hand on the back of my head.  
Tentatively, I press my lips against the tip, and lick it softly, before leaning down and dragging my tongue a long the bottom from the base and back up to the head. I keep looking up at him like I’m doing something wrong but his eyes are closed at the moment.  
I wrap my lips around the head and swirl my tongue around it slowly, sucking a little bit. I hear him inhale sharply through his teeth. He grabs my hair and guides me to take it a little deeper, and stops with it nearly touching my tonsils.  
“Before we go any further, look at me,” he says  
I glance up.  
“If I feel those crooked fucking teeth on my dick, I swear to God you’ll swallow a few of them,” he jerks my head a little, urging me to continue.  
I bob my head up and down on him, trying to find a rhythm and speed that’ll keep me from gagging which I haven’t actually done yet. But I also haven’t taken the whole length yet either.  
He’s stroking my ego a little bit, hissing and cursing above me. He pulls my hair and I moan around his cock and suddenly he pulls my head down ramming the entire thing down my throat and holding me down there for a second. I choke on it and tear up when he pulls back out.  
“You’re going too slow, I gotta do it myself,” he says grabbing my hair with both hands.  
“I can do it, I can do it,” I plead but he shoves back in and starts pumping in and out of my mouth, each time a little deeper until each stroke goes all the way down my throat. I’m gagging and clinging to his wrists for stability.  
Within seconds I have tears streaming down my face from gagging alone. He slows just a little.  
“You’re so pretty when you cry, if I had my way you’d never stop. It’s a good thing you didn’t eat, huh?” He says after I choke especially hard.  
“This is what you wanted isn’t it?” He pulls out.  
“Yes,” I gasp before he continues his assault. I’m drooling down my chest and I need to wipe my nose, but I’m completely lost in my own depravity.  
He hasn’t let me breathe right for awhile and I start tapping at his hands, he goes a few seconds longer before letting me off. When he does I heave and lean forward, kissing his hips and jerking him off to make up for my lack of endurance.  
“Look at you,” he says, “You’re such a good little submissive, aren’t you? You don’t quit even for a second.”  
The praise makes my head swim. I start sucking again, working the part I can’t get down with my hand.  
I look up at him, locking eyes, and he’s grinning down at me. He pulls my hand and holds my wrist at his side, grabbing my hair with the other other hand.  
“I like it better when you’re choking,” he says pushing and pulling my head. The noises I’m making disgust me, but he’s looking at me with pure lust and I never want it to stop. I let him fuck my throat and I don’t even try to pull back.  
He starts moaning and the sound goes straight to my dick. I start to palm myself through my pants.  
“Quit it,” he says, “this is about me, you need to concentrate.”  
I obey, but not without whining desperately. I’m so hard it fucking hurts. His fist tightens around my hair. A warning.  
“Stay still, don’t fucking move,” he groans and his hips start to stutter in time with his breathing. He pulls me all the way down a few times, slower than before and I feel him spill himself straight down my throat.  
“Fuck, Tyler,” he sighs, pulling out and releasing me.  
I stare up at him, dragging the back of my hand across my mouth.  
“You’re a try-hard if nothing else. I didn’t think you could take it,” he says, leaning down and patting my cheek, none too gently.  
He stuffs himself, still twitching, back into his boxers and looks at me. My fists are clenched in my lap trying to ignore the absolute agony taking place beneath them. I shift on my knees a little. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.  
He notices my discomfort and swoops down cupping me through my sweat pants.  
“Is this what you keep whining about?” He says and then bites his own lip, smiling.  
“You wanna get off too, huh?”  
I nod feverishly and gasp as he presses harder.  
“What do you say?”  
“Please...?”  
He hums, and grabs my shirt with both hands and pulls it over my neck but not completely off before pushing me against the wall almost hard enough to wind me.  
“It’ll be more fun like this,” he says, chaining me back up. There’s no lax in the chains. He crouches in front of me and yanks my pants down a few inches above my knees. He runs his fingers across the mostly healed scars on my inner thighs, completely ignoring my hard cock that’s curved up against my belly and weeping pre-cum.  
I’m watching his face but he’s not really paying attention to me, only to what he’s doing. I shudder and feel my eyes roll back when he drags his nails up my thighs, narrowly missing what I need him to touch so desperately. He traces his fingers up my stomach and towards my chest.  
“Please touch me, fuck, please,” I keen.  
He rolls one of my nipples between two fingers.  
“I am touching you,” he murmurs before flicking it, making me whimper.  
“Please, I need it,” my eyebrows furrow as I lower my head trying to get him to actually look at me.  
“You don’t need anything, except some fucking patience.”  
He holds his cupped hand in front of my face.  
“Spit,” He says, “I’m not going to suck you off.”  
I do as I’m told and suddenly his hand is wrapped around my cock, slicking it with my saliva. He’s pumping slowly and my eyes close while my jaw goes slack. I pull at my restraints, wanting to touch him back, wanting to make him move a little faster. I know he’s doing it on purpose, making it agonizing and he won’t be satisfied until I go mad.  
“Feel good?”  
My answer is nothing but a moan. He picks his pace up a little, the lazy haphazard movements becoming more and more intentional. I’m already close and it’s humiliating but as I start to tense up, he slows to a near halt and so does my progress towards climax.  
My eyes fly open and he’s gleaming at me.  
“What is it?” He teases.  
“Why’d you do that?” I snap, squirming as he speeds up again.  
“You made it so easy,” he leans closer, until his chest is flush with mine, and his lips are brushing against my neck while he continues his ministrations between our bodies and I’m gasping.  
“Besides, you didn’t even ask first.” He finishes.  
I start rocking forward against him and he digs his nails into my hip with his free hand.  
“No, no, no. No helping. This is all still on my terms. You want to cum, you’ll do it when I let you. Do you understand?”  
I whine out an affirmative and he moves back away from me. His pace quickens and his grip tightens a little. And after a few minutes I’m right back where I was.  
“Close?” He asks.  
“Uh-huh,” my chest jumps, “Please, please, Brendon, I need-“  
He cuts me off grabbing my jaw.  
“I want you to look at me,” He says and I nod quickly.  
“Okay,” I gasp, “please!”  
“Go ahead,”  
I can feel the sensation rising in my belly, getting hotter, and when I’m right on the edge, my eyes screw shut involuntarily.  
He hooks two fingers behind my bottom row of teeth and pulls me forward.  
“Eyes. Open. Fucking look at me,” 

I do, and I shiver and jerk, staring right into his eyes whimpering through the entire thing. It doesn’t feel anything like this when I make myself cum. It’s invasive and euphoric like nothing else I’ve ever felt.  
I’m staring right at him, riding through the aftershocks of my orgasm and trying to catch my breath, when suddenly I notice a blurry flash of red hair in the distance behind his shoulder.  
As it comes into focus I feel sick. Brendon notices as my gaze changes direction and he turns his head.  
“You’re back early, Joshie,” he says cheerfully.


	8. the good the bad and the dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

//Joshua// 

I’m driving back from the airport I left my car and I’m out a few hundred dollars from various taxis.  
I couldn’t wait, I needed to get back to him. I’ve been rehearsing in my head and sometimes out loud, the entire drive, just what I’ll say to Tyler once I get there.  
I’m going to tell him everything. The reason he’s there, how sorry I am, and how I really feel about him. Everything.  
I don’t know how well he’ll take it all, but I hope I can mend the damages I’ve caused directly or otherwise. I’m going to get him out of there, and at least get him a hotel room for the remainder of his stay with me, if he won’t come to my house.  
My contract will be voided if I return him home early. Same as if he lets on that he knew what was going on, but that’ll be a separate conversation.  
I pass my house, needing to get there as soon as possible.  
I pull into the lot behind the warehouse and regrettably I spot Brendon’s car. I was hoping he’d have come and gone by now.  
I park and jog inside briskly, and head downstairs. When I open the door to the box I can immediately see Brendon’s back as he’s hovered over Tyler and blocking him from my view, through the glass.  
Tyler’s arms are strung up limply above his head, and his legs are squirming weakly. What the fuck is he doing to him? 

I open the door, and enter, poised to yell out to Brendon to stop whatever he’s doing but stop dead in my tracks. Neither of them notice me or the sound of the door.  
Tyler’s half naked, moaning with two fingers in his mouth, drooling and bleeding from his lip, not to mention the bruising all over his face and neck.  
Brendon is beating him off, or at the very least was because he lets go of Tyler’s penis once he goes quiet.  
I can’t breathe.  
The way his cheeks are flushed, and his ragged breathing, it’s too much. He staring at Brendon with this lewd concoction of lust and fear.  
I can’t breathe and I can’t speak.  
Suddenly, Tyler’s eyes flit to me and I can see all the color drain from his face.  
Brendon follows his line of sight and smiles at me.  
“You’re back early, Joshie,”  
I don’t move, and I don’t trust myself to speak yet. I keep my face and body language neutral. I glance at Tyler but he won’t look at me.  
Brendon stands up and turns to face me before zipping up his pants and buckling his belt. He walks a few steps closer to me, leaving Tyler in his state of undress with no way to fix it.  
He stirs in his chains a little and I can see his eyes are blood shot.  
My fists tighten at my sides. It isn’t hard to put the pieces together.  
I know Brendon wants a scene, a fight, anything, and I’m not going to give it to him. Not here, and not in front of Tyler. He’s not getting it.  
I put on a mask of aloofness and try as hard as I can to relax.  
“You haven’t changed at all, “ I say. He’s fucked subjects before but seemed to have gotten bored of it, more recently.  
“How could I resist,” he says, lighting a cigarette, “I mean, look at him, he’s the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. You want a cig, Ty?”  
Finally Tyler looks at me, straight at me.  
“Yes,” He says and his eyes are like daggers.  
I lower my eyebrows at him but he looks away.  
Brendon lights a second one and pushes it between Tyler’s lips, before lengthening the chains. Tyler scrambles to get his clothes on right, before taking a puff.  
“I’ve got to go,” Brendon says to me. He leans over Tyler, grabs his hair and kisses him. I look away but not before I see his tongue slide out and lap at the blood on Tyler’s chin. When I look back up he whispers something in Tyler’s ear.  
He stands up shooting me a pointed glance before walking straight past me and out the door.  
I look at Tyler and he’s staring at the floor  
“I’ll be right back,” I say and he doesn’t answer. 

I turn and leave, catching Brendon before he’s even out of the building.  
I grab his shoulder and he swings around.  
“What did you do to him?”  
“Exactly what he wanted...” he snaps back, and pushes my hand away.  
“I’m serious,” he continues, “Watch the tapes, if you can stand to, he came onto me. He said he did the same thing to you. He’s a manipulative little brat. He thinks whoring himself out will keep him safe.”  
I swallow hard, “What about all the bruises?”  
“Ask him. Ask him if he liked it, even. He’s not going to lie. And, again, if you don’t believe me, or him, watch the tapes. Now don’t put your hands on me again. You’re trying real hard not to start a fucking fight, but you’re about to get one. You tried, alright? You tried to make me think you didn’t care about him and here you are undoing it. You left and so he got what he wanted elsewhere. What was I gonna do? Say no?” He flicks his cigarette out and turns around.  
I just stand and watch him leave. I stand there for a while. I feel frozen. Eventually I turn around and walk back inside.  
Tyler looks up at the door mid-drag, and coughs. I approach him slowly.  
“What happened?” I don’t try and keep the brokenness out of my voice.  
He doesn’t look up at me.  
“Why’d he hurt you?”  
“I brought it on myself,” he answers quietly.  
“No, don’t give me that,” I say reaching down and grabbing the McDonald’s bag off the floor and finding a rock hard, still wrapped sandwich inside and some loose fries.  
“When did you eat last?”  
“Before you left,” he says. I shake my head angrily.  
“Tyler look at me, please,”  
He does. He looks awful. Sub-conjunctive hemorrhaging in his left eye, bruises all over his face, and it looks he’s been fucking hung if the bruising around his neck is anything to go by. The side of his throat is marked with hickeys and I focus back on his eyes.  
“Whatever I walked in on, did you-I mean you can tell me if-“  
“If what?” He interrupts angrily, “If he sexually assaulted me? No! He didn’t. I wanted it. And before you came in I sucked him off. And before that I kissed him. It was me. It was all me. I wanted it.”  
It feels like being punched in the stomach.  
“Tyler...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I had to leave I-“  
“I don’t care that you left, I didn’t care about you,” he yells and his voice is hoarse. He’s shaking.  
“I don’t believe you,” My voice is shaking as hard as he is.  
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to,”  
“Please, Tyler. Please tell me what’s going on? Did he threaten you? He’ll never know if you just tell me.”  
“He didn’t threaten me. I wanted him. I already told you,”  
“Why?”  
“Because he’s better than you. You just happened to walk in, I was going to tell you either way.”  
I drop down to his level.  
“Tyler. Listen to me. He doesn’t love you. He doesn’t love anything, don’t get caught up in his charm, or his looks, or whatever else you think he has.”  
“He doesn’t have to love me. And I don’t have to love him, I don’t have to love someone. He’s been honest about his intentions.” He goes to take another drag and I grab it out of his hand and smash it out and he glares up at me.  
“Please don’t do this...” my voice wavers and I feel tears coming, “Tell me what’s going on.”  
“I already did. I want him, I don’t want you,”  
“He hurt you,” my heart is fucking breaking.  
“I liked it,” his voice is laced with poison.  
“What did he say to you? Before he left?” I ask.  
“He said he’d come see me again,” he answers almost happily.  
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I stop and check it.

Received 1:24pm  
Brendon: He’s got the hottest little mouth on him, you should try it out (;

I shove it back into my pocket.  
“Fine,” I say, “I’ll leave you alone, I’ll leave you with him. Unless you have anything else to say to me, I’m walking out that door and you’ll never see me again.”  
For a second he looks surprised, regretful, but he says nothing.  
I’m pleading with my eyes, begging him to stop me, to fucking say something.  
“Tyler...”  
“Why are you still here?” He yells, “You said you’d leave, just call him and tell him to come back tomorrow. I don’t want to see you anymore. He’d still be here if it wasn’t for you.”  
He’s breathing hard and trying not to cry.  
“No, he wouldn’t. And you know that. You aren’t stupid. He was done with you. And once he’s real done with you, you’re going to understand that you’ve made a mistake. I’m not talking about the mistake of shutting me out, I’m talking about giving him the space in your mind that you can’t ever get back,” I say flatly.  
I can’t help him. I can’t, not if he won’t let me. I have no idea what I did, and I’m not getting anything out of him but the lines he’s memorized. I want to hold him. I wanted to kiss him and hold his hand on the drive out of here, spend an ungodly amount of money on dinner and a nice hotel and make all of this bullshit up to him.  
But I’m going to have to leave. I can’t handle this and I can’t stand to hear him anymore.  
Brendon took him from me for no reason other than seeing an opportunity to do so. And he was right, I could have started a fight, I could have hauled off and punched him in the jaw until my knuckles bled but what would it have really done for me?  
It would have felt good for a moment, sure, but it wouldn’t have made Tyler change his mind. It wouldn’t make him mine again. It would have just left me exhausted and angry. 

“Are you done yet?” Tyler bites.  
“It’s not healthy. You need someone who’ll take care of you, it doesn’t even have to be me, but Jesus, Tyler, he’s going to make you worse, look at yourself,” I say knowing full well I need it to be me that cares for him.  
“It’s not like he’s my boyfriend. And I’m done talking to you,” He pulls his knees into his chest and stares at my feet.  
I stare hard into him for nearly a minute, before pulling out my cellphone and calling Brendon.  
“What?” He answers.  
“I’m done here,” Tyler looks up when I start speaking, “I’m leaving, take all the money, snort it or drink it, I don’t care. If you don’t want him to starve to death down here come back by at some point. Either way I’m leaving and I’m not coming back. Lose my number.”  
I end the call, and get back on my feet, still hoping he’ll say something to stop me, or tell me whatever it is he’s refused to say. He doesn’t say anything. 

Maybe he is telling the truth. Maybe he’s too far gone and Brendon is the only person who’ll dig hooks into him deep enough that he can feel. Maybe he doesn’t want to be better. 

I’m washing my hands of it. I’ve tried, I’ve been kind, I’ve been gentle, I was going to make it right but he doesn’t want it. He can’t accept my help anymore. 

Once when I was young, I found a baby bird on the school playground. It had fallen from its nest the night before. The poor thing was covered in fire ants and its wing was snapped at a ninety degree angle. I scooped it up, sobbing, and ran inside to find my teacher. I found her and cried telling her we had to save it, I can imagine how I looked, covered in snot and tears, and twitching from ant bites.  
The bird was barely alive. My teacher and a janitor had to pry it from my hands and explain that I couldn’t save it. Too much damage had already been done.  
My intentions, my hopes, my love, and my tears couldn’t do anything to help the baby bird, it was too far gone. 

I look at Tyler now and understand that the ants and broken pieces are inside of him. He won’t share the same fate of being taken outside and stomped on by a grumbling janitor, but he will not make it to the other side of this unscathed. The damage will be tremendous and it may not ever fully heal. 

I’m not responsible anymore. I tried, and I tried harder than I believe anyone ever has for him. 

“Goodbye, Tyler,” I walk to and through the door, without looking back.


	9. trapdoor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can interact with all three of my characters on their tumblrs if you want!
> 
> Joshua - sahlo-folina-sahlo.tumblr.com
> 
> Tyler - blurryfacet.tumblr.com
> 
> Brendon - straydogsicc.tumblr.com

\\\Tyler\\\ 

Joshua is gone. He isn’t coming back. It’s been at least an entire day, and Brendon hasn’t come back either.  
Between half-lucid dreams, and mostly conscious starvation-fueled thoughts I come to the conclusion that I’m going to die here. 

I’ve wanted to die before, but now that the possibility is staring me in the face I’m terrified. 

I keep having dreams that Joshua comes back or Brendon comes in with a long sharp knife and guts me and I won’t die, I just watch screaming silently while my insides pour out around me. Sometimes it happens when I think I’m awake. 

I’m freezing and my head is pounding and it seems that even breathing is exhausting. Hours have turned into years, each passing second another nick against my sanity and my ability to stay awake. I need water. I need food. I need a fucking loaded handgun.

I’ve barely thought about going home the entire time I’ve been here, but now I wish I was there. Dealing with the irritation and isolation of a different kind. I long for it. I know I don’t really...but I can’t take this anymore. 

The door opens and jump, sitting up straight. I see Brendon holding a bag of food presumably and I feel tears coming. 

He pays me no mind, dropping the bag and bottle of water at my feet.  
I tear it opening and start taking bites out of the burger I almost choke. It’s fucking cold and it’s the most decadent meal I’ve ever had. I’m finished in well under a minute and then guzzle a good three fourths of the water down. I look up and I see him walking away and back towards the door.  
“Wait!” I yell. 

“What?”

“Where are you going?” I cry out desperately.

“Home, I dunno,” he says shrugging, “Long couple of days?”

“Days?”

“Yeah, you were in here for like almost 72 hours,” He laughs, “Sorry about that, I got arrested.” 

“Three days? It’s been three days?” I gape at him. I could have died, I could have really died. 

“Yep.” He seems bored. 

“You don’t have to go,” My voice sounds so small.

“Oh, thanks,” he says sarcastically.

“Please don’t go?” I correct, “Please, I’ll do anything, please don’t leave me alone again.” I’m shaking. 

“Shouldn’t offer anyone anything, least of all me,” he says, “Are you finally going bonkers in here?” He turns around and approaches me, leaning over me and lifting my chin.

“You start seeing and hearing shit? I knew you were fucking crazy,” the words should cut deep, but he’s touching me so I don’t care. 

“No,” I say quietly, “Just please, please don’t leave me alone. Just for a little while please.” My breath hitches and he watches me closely, and smiles just a little. It’s not a happy smile but it’s something.

“You’re going home soon,” he says, letting go of me and reaching up to unlock my hands. 

I don’t say anything but when my chains clank to the floor I lift myself up and try to kiss him. He covers my mouth with his hand and grips my cheeks tightly, making my bruises scream.

“That was a one time thing,” he says and my stomach turns. He stands up straight and releases me. 

“Stand up and undress,” he says plainly.

I stare up at him confused.

“But you said-“

He grabs my arm, yanks me to my feet and lifts my shirt over my head before dropping it on the ground.

“The kissing was a one time thing. Hurry up, I’m fucking exhausted.” He pulls a tiny bottle out of his pocket and I squint at it. It’s lube. How considerate of him. He had it with him the whole time, he knew I was going to beg him to stay. My cheeks feel hot. I’m angry but at least I’m not alone. 

I guess now is as good a time to lose my virginity as any. 

He’s started unbuttoning his shirt and I’m just staring at him like an idiot. I’m shaking again. 

“Do you not want to?” He asks shouldering out of his shirt and letting it fall to the floor, “I know you didn’t expect we’d sit around and chit-chat...”

“No-no, I do want to I’m just-“ I don’t want to say it. He knows I’m a nervous wreck, he has to. 

His belt is the next to go and I jump when the buckle hits the cement.

I swallow thickly, looking at his body while he continues undressing. He’s toned without being too muscular and slender without being almost skeletal like I am. He catches me staring while stepping out of his jeans and kicking his shoes off to the side, his boxers quickly following suit. He’s half-hard already.

“You can keep gawking, or you can get out of those pants and start sucking,” he says impatiently. 

I slide my pants down and almost trip over them trying to kneel, I look up at him nervously before taking him into my mouth. I try to go down all the way just how he liked before and I can feel him getting harder right away. After a few tries I gag and he grabs my hair.  
“You’re gonna puke, go slow,” he groans.  
I listen and moan softly around his dick.  
I pull off for just a second and ask if I can touch myself. He seems to like that because he tells me I can. My fist moves lazily up and down my length in time with the bobbing of my head. It feels good, everything about it feels good even if it’s only temporary.

His tight grip on my hair only makes everything else feel better, but after a few minutes he pulls me off. 

“That’s enough. Lay down.”

I look up at him, my heart racing so fast I feel like I might actually die. 

“I just...I haven’t ever...” 

“I know you ‘haven’t ever,’” He shoots back, mocking me, “If you don’t want to, tell me. I’m not a fucking rapist.” 

“I do!” I say, but it barely sounds convincing. 

He stoops down, pushes my shoulders back, and kneels between my legs. I’m leaning back on my elbows and watching him while he uncaps the lube and slicks his cock lewdly. 

“Fuck,” I say under my breath. 

Suddenly he hooks his arm under one of my knees, forcing it against my chest nearly bending me in half as he leans over me.  
I let out this high pitched noise and he smiles even though he’s not looking at me. 

“Have you ever fingered yourself, Ty?” He asks.

“Yeah, sometimes...” I reply, embarrassed even though he asked. 

He drizzles some lube, getting the majority of it all over my dick and it’s freezing, then it slides down my ass-crack. 

He looks mechanical. Like he’s doing dishes or something. This doesn’t mean anything and I know that but it’s unnerving. His eyes flit up to mine and I realize I’ve been holding my breath. 

“Y’alright?” He asks.

I nod quickly and he looks back down swiping his index finger against the opening of the bottle, before tossing it to the side. 

He presses his finger against my entrance, almost gently and tells me to relax. I decide to keep it to myself that I cannot. 

His finger slides into me slowly and I tense up, whining and trying to close my legs but he holds me in place. He shushes me and starts working in and out a little faster. I let my head drop back and close my eyes when he adds a second finger and goes deeper, grazing my prostate and fuck, it feels amazing. 

“You better not be closing your eyes to picture someone else,” He laughs and then raises his voice to a slightly higher register, “Oh baby, you like that? You’re being so good for me...” 

My head snaps up, “Don’t do that,”

“Did I really sound like him? I wasn’t sure if I could get it just right.” He punctuates the sentence by scissoring his fingers slightly and I almost scream. I can’t tell if it hurts or feels good and he pulls his hand back before I have the chance to decide. I cry out, feeling empty and craving the pressure now that it’s gone.

“You want the real thing now?” 

I purse my lips and nod. 

He leans a little closer, propping my hips up, grabs his dick and presses into me, without penetrating. 

“It’s gonna hurt, but you know that don’t you?” 

My breathing gets loud and heavy as he pushes into me just barely and it drags a moan from my throat. I cling to his arm that’s pinning my leg up with both hands and grit my teeth. 

“Shit, you’re so tight,” he whispers while he eases in and groans as he bottoms out. It feels like a burning fire in my stomach and when he starts pulling out, I dig my nails into his arm. I can’t breathe, it hurts like fucking hell but beneath the layers and layers of pain there’s pleasure and I focus on it. 

He starts thrusting and I know he knows I’m not ready yet, but I don’t want to stop him. 

“Is it too much?” His voice is dripping with arrogance.  
I want to spit back some snarky comment but I can’t put words together. I’m wailing and begging in long incoherent strings of profanity and ‘please please please.’

He covers my mouth with his hand and pinches my nose shut, and even then I can’t stop. 

“You’re so goddamn loud, I’ve barely even started.” He lets me breath after a few seconds but keeps his palm sealed over my mouth. 

He pounds into me faster and harder and my eyes roll back. 

I open my eyes to look up at him and he looks so different, his hair is flopped over on the wrong side and his eyes are half lidded, lips parted with his tongue set just barely between his teeth.  
He grins down at me, and starts thrusting harder. 

I’ve got tears in my eyes and I don’t know why, it’s everything combined, the pain in my body and my heart, the pressure between my hips, the humiliation that I actually wanted this. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He says mockingly, squeezing my face harder. 

“You miss him? You wanted it to be him so badly didn’t you? Turn over, I don’t want to look at you anymore,” he says, pulling out, grabbing my hips and flipping me. He throws my arms out from under my and holds my face against the ground by the back of my neck while he realigns and starts in on me again. 

“Get your ass up in the air, Ty. I’m doing all the work here,” he spits. 

Once he gets his rhythm back, he tangles a fist through my hair and bends my spine almost in half. I’m overloaded and everything hurts and still I don’t even think of trying to make it stop. My neck is curved back so far that my moans come out choked and rattling. 

I can’t fucking think straight when his hips roll up and his cock hits my prostate, I want to cry out and say how amazing it feels but I can’t get past the crying part. Suddenly he let’s go of my hair and I slump forward, hitting my head against the wall and I hear him laughing before he grips my hipbones and yanks me backwards. His fingers are definitely leaving bruises and it hurts so bad. 

I can’t tell if moaning or crying anymore and I know he doesn’t care. Knowing he doesn’t care turns me on more than anything, and I hate it. I hate that I’m going to cum soon completely untouched because I know that he values me even less than I value myself. 

I can hear him breathing harder, and I can feel his sweat dripping onto my spine. He leans over me and grabs my cock with one hand and starts to pump it painfully slow. 

I try to move against him but his grip on my hip tightens in a warning. I’m close to sobbing, I need it so bad and suddenly he he stops stimulating me completely and I whine loudly. 

“So desperate,” he breathes, raking his nails down my back, making me arch up even higher. He pulls me back.  
“Stay there-just like that, fuck.” He groans.  
It hurts so bad but I obey. It feels like my back is going to fucking snap. He’s pushing and pulling me back and forth on himself and my legs are shaking so hard I’m afraid I’ll collapse.  
He moans from deep down inside his chest, and I can feel every twitch and contraction as he comes inside me, thrusting double time.  
“Shit,” he says sighing He pushes me forward and I just fall down, spent. He stands up grabbing my hair and turning me around against the wall.  
“Please, fuck, I need,”  
“Shut up,” He says putting my cuffs back on.  
He stares down at me while I uselessly try to touch myself. The chains are to short. I look up at him desperately while he pulls his boxers and then his pants back up. 

He turns back to me.

“Maybe I should just leave you like this,” he says darkly. 

My eyes widen, “No! No, please don’t.”

“Why not? I got off already.”

He kicks one of my legs to the side keeping them spread open and crouches in front of me. With a golden fucking smile he smoothes my hair back gently and taps the side of my face.  
“Please touch me,” I whimper, trying to sound alluring but I can tell it reads ‘desperate’ which is much more accurate.  
He pouts his lips and hums at me mockingly, as he grabs my cock and strokes it much too loosely. It’s almost enough but not quite. He looks down at my arousal almost amused. I’m covered in lube and pre-cum and sweat and every single smallest touch has me writhing against the wall. 

With his free hand he holds my jaw tightly, forcing me to look up from his handiwork. He’s looking at me like I’m far in the distance. Solemn. Serious, just taking it in.

“We’re a bad pair, you and I,” He says and I have no idea how I’m supposed to pay attention let alone respond. 

“In the end, neither of us will ever be satisfied. You’ll keep emptying and emptying until you have nothing left. And I’ll just keep taking and taking until I’m bored with what I have.” 

I feel drunk. I don’t know if he can tell what the abuse is doing to me but I doubt he cares one way or the other. That’s fine. 

“You need it don’t you?” He murmurs in my ear and I nod letting out a choked cry. I feel his breath and then his teeth against the shell of my ear and every muscle in my abdomen seizes up so hard it hurts. I’m so close, but I just can’t push myself over the edge. 

The hand on my jawbone slides down and grips my throat firmly enough to make me bliss out but not hard enough make me lose consciousness.

“You got anything left to give me, Ty?” His voice is sickly sweet and I nod like I’m three sheets to the wind. 

His grip tightens just a little and I’m already there, I’m fucking soaring and then he lets go of me completely. He grabs my thighs to keep me from closing them and getting any stimulation whatsoever. I’m crying and bucking against him searching for any amount of friction and I get none as my cock bounces weakly a few times and then stops.  
My ruined orgasm ghosts through me leaving me exhausted and unsatisfied.

He’s laughing at me and I’m trembling while tears flood my eyes. I want to get angry, I want to scream at him, but the feeling is fleeting. It wouldn’t be worth it and it wouldn’t matter, to him or me.

He starts getting dressed and even now I’m terrified of being left alone here. Even after all of that I want him stay. I’d be content if he just stood at the other end of the room and ignored me completely.

I just don’t want to be alone.

Once he’s clothed he surveys me. 

“I can’t tell if you’re becoming more attractive to me, or more disgusting,” he says quietly, watching me a few more seconds. I’m not looking at him but I can feel his eyes.

He bends down and unchains me, and I just sit there limply being moved.

“Get dressed, we’re leaving,” 

I look up at him.

“Where-“

“I already said you were going home. Hurry up.”

He’d said soon. How was I supposed to know that meant now? Truthfully I don’t even believe him, but my aching body moves against my will at the prospect. 

Once I’ve got my, Josh’s, clothes on, Brendon pulls a scarf out of his coat pocket and wraps it around my head tightly, covering my eyes. 

“You don’t seem too excited,” I hear him behind me before he guides me forward by my shoulder. 

“I’m just,” Empty. Drowning. Broken. “...tired.”

He doesn’t say anything else as he pushes me through the door and holds me closer as we ascend a flight of stairs. I stumble a few times but he just clicks his tongue at me drags me back up. 

I hadn’t realized how stale the air had been until I feel fresh air hit my face and lungs when he opens another door. We must be outside, it’s fucking freezing. 

We’re walking now on what sounds and feels like pavement and then he stops abruptly and lets my arm go. 

I’m holding my breath and trying to hear but it’s silent. I can’t hear cars or the sounds of a city at all. I do however hear a car door open and then he grabs me again and shoves me inside.

He leans over me, I can smell him. He buckles me in and then cranks my seat back all the way down. 

The door shuts and the drivers door opens seconds later.

“Keep the seat down, and the blindfold on until the freeway,” he says, the sound of keys jangling under his voice before the ignition turns over, “I’ll let you know.”

He lights a cigarette and the car begins moving. He’s strangely silent, usually he always needed to have something to say, but now it seems like business only. 

Maybe that’s what he meant, he had gotten everything he wanted. I was no longer a conquest, or a game. I was something that broke and now I’m not very interesting. 

It’s just as well. Nothing with him could ever have been sustainable. I never wanted anything with him, but I didn’t think I’d turn him off so quickly. 

I liked the attention. I wanted to be desired, even for some sort of sick game. It made me feel good, and then it made me feel worse until the next time. Not sustainable. 

The car hummed along, slowing to a stop or veering to the left or right occasionally. 

I feel incredibly anxious in the silence. I wish he’d turn the radio on or say something. 

After about half an hour he clears his throat. 

“You can take it off and sit up if you want to,” 

I peel the scarf back and sit up slowly. It’s dark outside. The clock on the dashboard reads 8:19 pm. 

I look out the window and I recognize the interstate. My house isn’t too far, maybe forty minutes out. 

I glance over at him. It’s strange to see him out of that room, doing something as casual and normal as driving a car. His eyes are weary and seem barely focused. 

“You can take a smoke,” he says suddenly and it startles me, despite not being very loud. He grabs the pack from the console and offers it to me.

I take one, and he feels around in the dark for a lighter and produces one. 

I feel less awkward with something to do with my hands. 

“Am I going home because Joshua left?”

I can see the lights from surrounding vehicles shine off his teeth when he smiles, “Sort of,” 

“It seemed like too much of a coincidence,” I say. 

“I’d have taken you back three days ago if I could’ve. But lucky for you, you got some extra time to derail,” He laughs.

Something isn’t adding up to me, but I can’t really put an explanation to it. If they’d gotten the money they wanted why wait?

“I can hear the gears in your head grinding,” he says, and I don’t reply. 

“I wasn’t sure whether or not I was going to tell you. I never have in the past, but...” he trails off. 

“I guess I’ll just say it,” he continues, “Your parents aren’t really worried about you, because they hired us. Well, hired Josh specifically. I’ve been in hot water recently and not getting as many clients, but at the same time this isn’t my job, it was his. Basically we take bad kids, and take them down a few notches. As it stands, returning you early voids the contract we agreed to, but I’m good at finding loopholes.”

He continues speaking but I don’t hear it. His voice becomes background noise behind my pulse. My body feels numb and everything else is a buzz inside my head. 

“You’re not anything like what they described,” I finally hear. 

I look at him cautiously and can’t find a thread of dishonesty in his face.

“Whatever they think is wrong with you isn’t something I can fix, and whatever is actually wrong with you is above me. Honestly, therapy would have been a hell of a lot cheaper,” he shrugs. 

“Do they know everything that...” I manage to squeak out before he interrupts. 

“No, and I would appreciate your discretion. You can do whatever you want, I already got paid, but I would keep my mouth shut if I were you,”

Outstandingly, I feel nearly nothing. I’m not angry. I’m comfortable in my nothing. If I felt anything at all, I don’t think I’d survive it. 

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask softly.

“Because I want to see you again,” it hangs in the air, “and I’m not really interested in doing this anymore, so I might as well fuck it up monumentally.”

It’s silent for a while. We’re nearly to my house and my heart is beating out of my chest. 

“What am I supposed to do?” I asked, hardly expecting an answer.

“Get out of that house, I don’t know. I wouldn’t stay,” he reaches into the center console and pulls something out. It’s my cellphone.  
I watch silently while he punches a number into my contacts and saves his name above it, before handing it to me.  
It feels foreign in my hands. 

I look up and we’re on my street. I feel like vomiting. 

He pulls over on the side of the road in front of my house. It doesn’t look familiar, what’s the opposite of deja vu? The tall brick thing doesn’t look inviting. It never really did before but now it almost looks haunted to me. 

“You can do whatever you want with the information I’ve given you, but don’t be stupid. Don’t contact me until you’re out of there if you plan on reaching out to me. And understand my intentions.” 

“What-“

“I know you hear something you shouldn’t when I say, ‘I want to see you again.’ Don’t. Don’t turn it into something it isn’t.” He says. 

I look at him, barely keeping myself from shaking. He reaches back in to the console and pushes my pill bottle into my hands, before leaning over me and shoving the passenger side door open. 

I swallow hard, unbuckling myself and exiting the car. I can take a hint. The moment I close the door, Brendon speeds off. I stand on the side of the street and stare at the house.  
It’s just a house, it isn’t my home.


End file.
